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Old Man


It’s 11 am and January in Virginia.

The air is windy and frigid, sun out on the 35-degree day.

Walking along the sidewalk,

I see the old man

He slowly grabbed the toolbox from the back of his yellow truck,

head down.

His eyes somewhere else, never to meet mine.


A cold air bellows its fury and leaves leap in front of my path.


The old man turns,

back to mine

Shuttering and shuffling into his home.


I wondered if it was too much for him.

The winter wrath

Then I think,

He took the day off-

Home early.

His plans for the rest of the day?

Take off shoes, kiss the wife

Turn on TV

Blanket, snack

Warm beverage of choice,

Smile of contentment

Flipping through the channels and not even once, thinking about the weather.