I'm standing at
the bus stop
On Vanderbilt
Avenue
Stick trees
line the street
Silent
soldiers on a bleak avenue
In a feeble shelter
Three women
stand
I huddle in my
flimsy coat
Nearby
An icy wind
Rampant, raw
Slaps my face
With a bully’s rage
The cold winter air makes our hands and faces tingle
Above the wind
And the ugly
song of the traffic
I hear
whistling
Faint at
first, yet familiar
Melodic carols
Carried higher
than the street noise
Let heaven and angels sing!
And I can see happy families go to church and cheerily they mingle
A man
Thin and
whiskery
His winter cap
at a jaunty angle
Leans against
a wall of grungy graffiti
Whistling his
selection of Christmas cheer
Beauty in the
raw
Rising above
the cacophony of cars and trucks
Rising, rising
Until I hear
only the whistling man
His joyous
carols a chorus for angels, kings and commuters
Soaring above
the drabness of the day
His lilting
air
Lifts me from
the ordinary
I enter the
bus
Determined to
thank him
Because the whole business of Christmas is unbelievably dreadful, if you're single
So I do…
Thanks for sharing your Christmas memory as a mashup poem - cool! Merry Everything!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Alan. Your poem reminds me of a woman I followed in the grocery store this week, humming a Christmas tune. There is beauty everywhere if we care to notice.
ReplyDeleteAlan, your poem so beautifully captures the coldness and warmth of Christmas in Brooklyn. I love all of it, especially how the carols are "soaring above the drabness of the day." Thank you and Happy Holidays!!!
ReplyDeleteReally enjoyed your poem, Alan. I was right there with ya.
ReplyDelete