Old Lucas in the snows.

Every weekday morning
As I bus to my factory
He gets on two stops after Terminal.
“Morning, Neighbour
Factory calling?
Guess the hockey boys won again.
Last night.”
Stainless steel canes
Wrapping his forearms.
Clattering happily.
Might have waited
Twenty minutes outside.
Snot dripping.


Mighty gloves, scarf.
Leather cap
With those furry
Ottawa ear lugs.
Smiling, not shivering.
Gotta be eighty something.
Grew up on the farm
Outside New Hamburg.


“Snow drifts right up
To the hydro lines.
Walks to and fro’
Country school.”
Herculean hikes.
So this morning in
The Current Inclement weather
No biggy.


Going to a coffee shop.
South side of Kitchener.
Enjoys all of the counter staff there.
“Morning, Lucas, bloody cold one.
We missed you couple of days.
Flu getcha, or just a good book
Entrapping
In your new recliner.
You like the spy stuff, you said.”


First name basis.
Gracious smiling women.
Earning a buck.
Gives purpose to his ancient day.
Finds delightful conversation.
“Time for you to
Pull ouyour deck of cards? Chuck?”
“Ma’am how is your Day Care
Working out, for sweet Lynda?”
Visitors from all walks.
Without fail getting some tidbit from Him.


And without needing the morning’s
Sun Edition for consumption.
For pointless info.
(Chiefly a sports and movies rag, anyways.)
Why do folks routinely bother?
And that SUDOKU
Japs can keep that one under lock and key.