The Old Man’s winter was warm
Smelling of coffee, damp wool and leather
Pendleton shirt, leather vest, unbuttoned coat
Whipcord pants tucked loosely
Into open unlaced Bean boots
Mackinaw cap worn flaps up
Tie strings dangling
I am older by five now than the Old Man lived
Still year by year becoming more like him
Out and about on our northland tasked
Filson cruiser with shearling collar
Warm against biting winds
And matching woolen cap
Flap strings still undone
Striding by dark store windows
I sense his presence and sidelong glance
A walking stride for stride reflection
Of the Old Man in wool and leather
He nods and smiles, a lesson learned,
Into open unlaced Bean boots
Mackinaw cap worn flaps up
Tie strings dangling
I am older by five now than the Old Man lived
Still year by year becoming more like him
Out and about on our northland tasked
Filson cruiser with shearling collar
Warm against biting winds
And matching woolen cap
Flap strings still undone
Striding by dark store windows
I sense his presence and sidelong glance
A walking stride for stride reflection
Of the Old Man in wool and leather
He nods and smiles, a lesson learned,
You cannot put a price
On personal comfort.
4 comments:
The poet is alive and well in Albert Lea. Must be the spring flowers that inspired him to write again.
One every couple of days then hit delete. I thought they'd get better. I don't think they do. So, here's today's.
Gunnar,
Which gentleman in the photo is Gunnar Sr.?
The Old Man is the guy drinking coffee.
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