Tuesday, February 21, 2006

As we speak

We are aware, even passively,
of senseless acts of kindness,
else what is an artist or poet for --
yet I know I do not embrace
all that I observe and touch
with deserved attention,
or appreciation.

This morning …
near a bus stop bustle,
maneuvers a frail man of years,
suffering a bicycle slalomly
through impatient indifference.
He forages cans, as best he can
with scant fingers,
perhaps frozen off …
until the vehicle disappears
(squeak, rattle, squeak)
beneath burgeoning plastic bags --
a scant living, but work just the same.

I have occasionally contributed
a backseat tossed container,
not as charity -- but payment for service,
(Rattle, bang, squeak)
receiving a bowing, toothless grin
and chatter in a tongue unknown.

This day is different --
(aren’t they all - squeak)
as an 'upscale' lady approaches,
removes from her purse
a tiny spouted can,
and oils the wheels and chain
of his livelihood.

The crowd applauds in laughter,
appreciative not of the gift --
but of the silence.

Not I -- but I catch her eye,
and she smiles inwardly;
for I saw her real kindness --

as she stooped,
she placed her hand over his,
giving thanks
that he is alive.


faucon

3 Comments:

At 9:53 AM, Blogger Trendle Ellwood said...

faucon, this was absolutely wonderous, you made my day.
Much love
Tren

 
At 2:27 AM, Blogger Heather Blakey said...

a delightful act of kindness

 
At 3:42 PM, Blogger Gail Kavanagh said...

Beautiful, Faucon - to see an act of kindness is like catching a flower sneaking up between the cracks in the concrete.

 

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