Summer and Winter — two poems

Summer at Victoria Park

Originally published in The Boston Coffee House

Lopsided cut-outs
dare oak trees,
shiny lights freckle
cardboard stalls,
red and white flags swirl around
ice creams and screams.

The park’s a weekend museum;
a Ferris wheel of
half-spent desires.

Stuffed tigers, candyfloss—
extant signposts of
childhood—a station
one keeps circling around.

Songs float in.
The office window’s
a truant whisperer.
It pre-empts
a school boy’s and
an office girl’s secret
desire;
the weekend.

                                                                                                                       ~~~~~~~~~~

Winter Outside a Grocery Store

Originally published in Two Cities Review

The road is a messy
half-eaten casserole.
The weekend sun, a limp
slice of lemon.
It sneaks out without a whimper.
and is not missed.

I sit in the car, waiting
for you to return
with vegetables,
their attendance
necessary for updating
the week’s meal roster.

Three young men emerge
with their acquisitions.
Bottles of wine, local and exotic.
Another, a store helper,
battles the stabbing
arctic chill to
push a fresh batch of carts,
left behind by shoppers.

The store’s sliding doors open,
a mother and son come out
bearing yellow bags. Their
tired feet scurry through
the snow.

An old lady
droops under the weight of two
bags–the weekly cross
she must bear for
still living.

Not everyone’s Saturday
evening
is the same.