Girl in the Airport in the Brown Sweater
Moist eyes gaze past
fast food kiosks,
past milling children flying
paper airplanes, playing
her ears deaf
to the din that drives
most to distraction.
is slightly rosy
and her eyes
she blots with her napkin,
and like a lab
emerging from a lake
she tosses her head
to shake off sadness like water.
Passing the Amish in Upstate New York
Driving up Highway 12 in Jefferson County,
up toward the banks of the St. Lawrence,
the trees with their last late-autumn leaves
still clinging to their colors and their branches,
winding through curves and over hills,
the sky brilliant blue, sun shining brightly
betraying the near-freezing temperatures outside.
As we topped a gentle hill the black buggy
came into view, drawn by an elegant black
stallion at full canter, the bearded man
with his full brimmed black hat, reins
in one hand, crop in the other, his wife
beside him thick shawl-wrapped like a mummy,
scarf around her neck and head, bonnet atop,
she hugged herself against the cold.
As we approached and I saw
their passing faces I waved impulsively.
She returned a friendly nod, too cold
to unwrap an arm to wave.