It’s never easy to walk in winter
when the hound wind gnaws your bare skin, the air
somehow burns your lungs, your body’s center
shivering like a long-distance runner.
It’s never easy to walk in summer
when breeze even scorches your heavy breath
and humidity slumps you, encumbers
each step, urges you to envision death,
scrawl out your will and call Father Moran,
ask for absolution. Never easy
to walk in spring. Bully allergies can
shove you down, gouging sinuses and eyes,
halt sentences with a sneeze. Nor in fall,
when you feel life wither -- grass, leaves and all.
Roger Armbrust
August 17, 2020
