Nomad-drigal.

 

Nomad-Drigal.

 ©-MFB III 

The old hobo

rolled in a fox trot

out of the boxcar,

whose letters were

sun faded even

in the moonlight. 

He was always cautious

after any ride

over steel tracks.

He remembered

rail yard bulls

billy clubs

broken hard

across his shoulders.

But he’d heard

church bells ring

that Christmas eve.

They played songs

his precious mother

had sung to him

forever ago.

He  finger combed hay 

from his hair

and snuck in 

the open church,

with the wisdom of thieves.

He knelt to pray

as the glitter of teardrops

cleaned crosses

on his creased

coal stained face.

More by this Author

  • All A Bored...Find refuge.
    0

    All A Bored Find Refuge.     It's just pulling in The Imagination Express, a quatrain of delight near the conjunction of your station of thoughts. Its sing-song, clackety-clack rhythms of life draw all poets near...

  • Redundancy
    1

      Redundancy.   ©MFB III                                                         His name is Clay, and how appropriate, he spreads his ashes every day,...

  • To a young Man Or Woman Headed Off to War.
    1

    "Godspeed And Return To Sender Please!" Please always remember to............ Grow eyes in the back of your head, take notice of all the things around you, things that before you might have simply ignored. ...


Comments

No comments yet.

    Sign in or sign up and post using a HubPages Network account.

    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    No HTML is allowed in comments, but URLs will be hyperlinked. Comments are not for promoting your articles or other sites.


    Click to Rate This Article
    working