Sunday, May 4, 2008

Mitten, by Myself

February 2006


Day unfolds
Enveloping the traveling bodies

Black, metal frame
Wobbles gracefully
Spokes spin

The front wicker basket
Brushes the chrome handlebars
Empty and light as air
Frosty rings the metal bell

Small child
Takes the seat behind
Bobbing, blonde hair
Clad in blue
Crisp is the morning air

The mitten falls
Like a fluttering leaf
The frost-bitten, earth
Opens her bitter mouth
To swallow the
Smoky blue puffs of yarn

The red-faced child giggles
“Uh-oh mitten gone!”

Time to pedal back
The new found hurry
Punctuates the morning calm
With an icy fury

Faster, faster, faster
Black frame clanging
Child grows suddenly small
Then out of sight

The white breeze rushes
In like
A January curtain
To close on the stillness
Of the newfound day

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