URBAN ANGEL
The autumn path now lies silent
in the city snow, and your afternoon
stroll has become slowed, doubtful.
Pendant pine branches cast
gray shadows on the dormant ground;
Fortune whispers, muted by the icy
judgment of season;
the hushed yawns of traffic
usher evening's persistence;
white rays from park side windows beckon
souls among unfallen leafs;
icicles chime vespers to your success.
Come, take the ungloved
hand of a December lover.
Let me guide you through
the diminished light of winter,
past the frozen fountain
(where your ambition
once spilled onto iron and stone)
to escort you to your anonymous monument
and bequest you the certainty
of this park bench.
Here your body shall rest
and assure the passerby
of a quiet moment;
consort the poor citizen;
offer Peace
as ambassador to twilight.
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