cold snow flakes
drift
around yard
as he walks up the drive
he’s underdressed
and incongruous this rural north
but his white teeth shine
in that familiar smile
when he knocks rhythmically on your door
everything seems so easy
from his
pin-stripes and knife creases
to his casual two-handed shake
and you ask him
------- hasn’t it been hard?
you know what’s hard?
not doin’ what I do
as he describes a large circle
--------could it be a heart
with his arms
and he goes on for a while
------- not too long
about the rhythm of joy
the wonder of play
the smile of peace
not in those words of course
but you get the drift!
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