April 15, 2014
I'm cheating a bit tonight as I wrote this, I think
this fall, when I was running to the bus a lot for my job. I still do run to the
bus, but I haven't seen the tent there probably since I wrote this. I need a break from writing a
brand new poem every day----so I’m taking a quick run at re-writing this one instead.
Catching
Up to the Bus
Harried at the inconvenience
I
rail kicking up a ruckus
Out
the door earlier than I want
I
walk out into the cool damp drearies
The
collection box for used clothing is newly removed
I
momentarily notice,
Crossing
over the overpass
I
look down nestled in the long grass is a tent
No
signs of life among the highway roars
My
heart melts
I
think about the cold wet night before
About
the bus pass in my pocket
And my malignant complaints
Having
to roll out of my warm bed with the birds,
But
not really
Not
like this
I
want to go buy breakfast for both of us,
But
I’ll miss my bus
My
job I go to wouldn’t understand,
Compassion
will have to wait
My
heart turns the corner to gratefulness
Rejoicing
for a small handful of troubles today
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