I saw this evening
in my driveway
an oldish man
hefting a garbage can
out to the curb.
He wore a natural wool
cable-knit sweater
khakis, tan socks and slippers.
Even though it was
the first day of false spring,
the sky was dark
the air was nippy, cold.
“Stop,” I wanted to tell him;
“Hold off!” But I could not.
There was an authority to
the way he hefted first the can
then the recycle bin
that spoke of the dignity of work
nobility of achievement.
I saw glory streaming around his head
I saw victory
I saw a man living life
in a way that suited the moment
very well.
Besides, if I’d started yelling
“Stop!” out in the driveway
by myself, carrying my garbage can,
people would have thought
I was old
and crazy.
