Eyes Are Dim But I Can See

He charges into his 80’s, one
leg following the other, a
leash of sinew, bone and muscle

limps aside the road, early morning
dust, the town sleeping away
last night’s dreaming

the wind leans into his face, wrinkled
skin accepting its touch,
thinks of life way back when…

Rosie now waiting under the Maple at
the Cochrane cemetery, Polar Bear
Express train in view
remembers trips to Moosonee

rails climbing the muskeg, cold beer
flowing as a waterfall from Moose River.

Now Lake Commanda almost circled in his
walk through the center of town
he must make this daily journey, legs
drifting as in a current, head aching

eyes blurry, arms pumping with exertion,
allows a dry cough its freedom

next week heard the old gentleman didn’t
complete the walking circle. “The
day he doesn’t means he’s gone to his Maker,”
his Nursing Home operator said years ago.

Now that gutsy hiker lays beneath
the Maple, beside his Rosie.

© 2011 Richard L. Provencher
Website: www.wsprog.com/rp/