Early morning in the gray light of late winter

He wore as many layers of dirt as layers of rags

Carrying his closet on his back

Drinking his breakfast beer

Held back from last night’s attempt at forgetting

Across the desolation of parking lot

Comes the dawn of beauty

Her blond hair radiating sunshine

Eyes blazing solar

She pulls him into orbit

With the gravity of grace

He shuffleruns to her side

She waits, almost alarmed

Not knowing if she should be afraid

Or just surprised

He plucks a fresh daffodil from the median bordering the lot

Hands it to her

” It’s sunny and beautiful, like you. Have a good day hun. Thanks for waiting.”

Returns to his bundled away from home, home

To finish his uptilted breakfast

While she is warmed by his pure gesture

Reminded that cleanliness doesn’t always bespeak of god

We are all just animated mud

And in the shared dirt of this earth

The best gifts are generous thoughts and smiles



David Trudel   ©  2013




Filed under Poetry

2 responses to “Gifts

  1. Seb

    Sweet, but not cloying. I like it.

  2. Based on something a friend of mine posted this morning. She was quite touched and appreciated the gesture and described the pleasure of looking at the daffodil, now in a vase on her desk.

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