At the traffic light

This cruel weather, by any feat

Is a good time for match, log and fireplace to meet

But not for a long sojourn on the street

where freezing winds blow on your seat

One fellow today kept his outpost grim

at the traffic light where the shoppers stop

too cold to move to gather in

the few dollars handed to him

I could tell by his eyes that he knew well

the difference that ten degrees demands

between his ability to move his hands

and simply being as cold as hell

His eyes caught mine in brief askance

He thinking of the warmth within my car

I thinking of the times long past

when hitch hiking - I had prayed for a chance

for a warm seat in car or cab of truck

while the blizzard swept the highway

and headlights seemed like angel’s lamps

come to rescue me from the freezing muck

The light changes to green and on I go!

I watch in the mirror for a second or so

His shape hunkered down against the wind

As on my windshield falls a single flake of snow

© Gordon Magill