Bus Stop In December


Bus Stop in December




I will not again
be the one
         standing solitary
in muddied waters
waiting for this bus
         in chilled
December
that sparrows
         have fled

They who huddle lonesome,
with me,
         will form me
of more faces
Indistinct now
         but growing apparent
as they grow--
         apparent
in their
listless gazing.

There are seconds
to count out by one’s
         and two’s,
and footsteps
on loose gravel,
         and days and nights
chilled by lonesomeness,
                   .an unanswered prayer.
and regrets
that blanket me
         like frost….

There are overcast days.
and black umbrellas.
         Ice glazed puddles
for children splashing.
and listless reckoning faces
         I have not lost
in my lonesome shiver.
--and there are cold nights ahead.

www.lulu.com/davidbetzer