No haikus today. Instead, I am sharing the poem I read today at the Harold Washington Public Library. Happy Poetry Month.
Early spring, after a harsh winter,
Chicagoans are finally out.
Cold breezes off the frozen lake
can’t keep us indoors any longer.
In the pub, chicken wings’ bones
and empty beer glasses testify that
one group has started early,
conversation so quiet I cannot listen in.
A young couple enters, sits at the next table,
his scent so strong it reminds me
of my son, whose pillow comforted me
long after he left for college.
A young man pushes a babe in a stroller,
looks uncomfortable in his new role,
unaware of future choices that
will define his character.
A family departs. The boy wears a hat
with bear eyes, ears and nose,
The girl wears a tutu over her pants and boots.
Their mother returns my smile.