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Home for The Night
by Maureen Glaude2 P.M. Sky clears. This fall day's gusts turn tree branches to cold bones.
My centretown bus shrieks its pause at the lights, down the bridge from the indoor
mall. University pillars stare down The Mission for Men across the road.
Beneath my window, on a slim pie slice of grass two men in worn out jackets shift a
sleeping bag to a farther corner.
Drier turf for home base? They spread it out, no ground sheet. Four-laned traffic storms
past, either side of the bedroom.
2:02 P.M. The bus starts up. I see straight into the eyes of one survival camper. We
weave away. How will he be, by 2 A.M?
10/01/2005 Posted on 10/02/2005
Copyright © 2025 Maureen Glaude
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 10/02/05 at 11:31 PM An effectively understated view of the homeless. An objective description turns to concern in the last line. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 10/03/05 at 04:04 AM An evocative poetic portrait as others have noted, reflected throughout North America if not the entire world. Sometimes I wonder, aside from the frigid winters here in the Capital, if those who live that lifestyle, either by choice or fate, aren't better off without the bills, drugery and pressures of work/middle class life. |
| Posted by Dana E Brossard on 10/04/05 at 06:39 PM This is very well done, I really like the drier turf for home base. |
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