The Whiner's Progress
Snow was falling, the temperature too.
The universe stood still
as his wipers began to freeze, streaking
the windshield so he could hardly see.
Lucky that he needed to concentrate
on the road, or he might've called home,
said to his wife, "I'm okay,
don't worry," worrying her.
Yet he was so close to legitimacy —
a whine and a crisis
in alignment for once — his friends
would have smiled had they known.
The car ahead of him skidded, spun.
Suddenly there was no division
between road and field, snow and snow.
He thought no fair. He thought poor me.
But when he called for help, stuck,
his world a white blur, he spoke
as if he understood a different language
was called for: fact after clear fact,
not one misleading I. Neither friend
nor universe could've hoped for more —
a low whine suppressed, the hint
of a man beginning to hear himself.
Stephen Dunn
Posted over on Verse Daily
No comments:
Post a Comment