Wings

you stride with your walking stick
left to right, left to right, along corners
up the stairs & alleys
along subway doors

i can't imagine what you may not see-
not this winter season full of greys 
but the magic of spring
you
young gazelle, 
raising your face to raindrops

i know you believe in angels 
though
you see, i see not one, not two but many
hands, including myself 
reining you from falling onto the tracks
guiding you along
wishing you nothing but good
tidings 
along your journey 

white hawk on tree

silent sentinel on the watch-

my morning, a gift-

Posted for dVerse OpenLinkNight.   Happy Thanksgiving to our US friends!  Thanks for joining in when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.

a man asks for directions

he is seated across me
         in subway train

in white jacket and pants
         he is lost cat
standing out
in sea of black and grey winter outfits

the woman beside him
         puts away her phone
gestures animatedly
         where to go, what bus to take, etc

her hands are whirling dandelions
her face is a lighthouse

the man leans in, 
        listening intently, clarifying information
he is pleased with the conversation

so much so 
that he bows his head slightly
        smiling delightfully
as he slides out of subway doors
        elegantly as a swan

his hand is holding a corsage 
his face is first day of spring dance 




Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Thanks for the visit.