In Passing, a poem by Martin Hicks

IN PASSING...

Gold hung last evening high and tattered

Upon broad branches in closed park,

And powdered over curbs lay scattered

Or rattled down cold walk near dark.

A home across the way cringed battered

From frigid blasts, without fixed mark.

Stray notions-much as dry gilt-mattered,

Skipped over scene without fired spark.

 

Dear Joan, The poem, " In Passing..." was written in passing west a funeral home at Red River Road
and Algoma St where a service was in progress for someone passing. The park is Waverley,
the battered house is on a high lot across all by itself. Similar poems in the same vein are
"A Songbird's Death" and "Frozen Frog" I'll email you later.
     My book, The Good Bartender and other Concoctions, is now also available in town at
the bookstore in Thunder Bay Mall.  Martin Hicks.