Grace Cockburn has been a teacher, a bureaucrat, a corn-husk angel
maker, and is now a mortgage specialist. She takes every possible
opportunity to garden, write, nap, and sit at the window with her
cat and watch the birds at the feeder. She lives with her family in
Lower Yates Street
…such as I have give I thee. Acts 3:6
Late afternoon, two days after Solstice;
and faith that Earth has turned safely light-ward
is still uncertain, especially on this street
where darkness is so much more.
Light hesitant and slowly dimming,
the street scene, like a stage flat, pivots:
shopkeepers lock up Christmas behind grilled doors,
the cast of winter homeless take their places,
await their cues.
Enter a mother and her three year old,
shopping finally finished, walking to their car.
The pavement set about with huddling forms,
the mother picks a path she hopes is out.
Enter a man with ravelled toque and raddled hair,
tattered wings of his coat flung wide,
and in his reaching hand
a candy cane
and from his toothless mouth
Can I give this to your little boy?
She hears herself say
Thank you. Yes.
part in the afterglow,
into their own lands.