Mid-Winter Thaw - Jan 28 2024

 

Mid-Winter Thaw

Jan 28 2024

Water gurgles through the downpipes.

A big slab of snow

sluices off the roof,

landing soggily

with a dull wet thud.

Eves drip

steady as a second hand;

it's almost hypnotic, drop after drop,

and I can't help but watch

entranced

for far too long.

Too warm, this time of year,

the sun above the trees

sky clear.

I head out to the street.

Ball hockey, on the cul de sac.

Kids in shorts and T-shirts.

The insistent clatter of sticks

as if to shout

pass it here.

Catbird voices talking trash,

ribbing their friends

as only buddies can.

I look on,

and for a moment

the chatter in my head quiets,

thoughts settle,

the pressure of time relents;

I'm a kid again

focused

on only the ball and the net.

When winning was everything

as well as nothing at all.

The mercury will drop tonight

leaving the partial thaw

frozen in place.

A still life

a postcard tableau.

Like the timeless image of kids

with flushed faces

playing children's games.

Who never ask permission

to take over the street,

making way

only grudgingly

with curt shouts of CAR.

Who trade good natured insults,

break sticks they can't afford,

and will be late for dinner

running up the score.