A Message He Whistled

There blew a hot wind upon my face

Stoically stood by feeling, the air embrace 

Something’s felt brewing, so thought I 

Envisioning sights, heard a child cry

Looking to my right and then, back left

Noticed a sign waving soundlessly wheft 

Stillness enveloped a moment of time 

Another man, unaware, figured him blind

Can’t you see? Flailing my arms around 

He never blinked, nor cast a definitive frown 

He whistled a somber tune, as if, unaware 

Hello, do you hear moaning echoes, I implore?

No, he doesn’t. He looks, as he exists the door 

And as he moves towards the sill on the floor 

He looks my way, and smiles, as if, to say

You think too much, now don’t let it spoil the day 

He tips his hat, and faces the hot sultry wind

Stepping from the curb, he disappeared my friend 

The sign continued moving on the street corner 

Something was brewing that July, that was warmer 

Than anytime known, during any recent summer 

The news came on at five o’clock, as usual 

Drinking warm beer from a brass crucible 

Waited for sparks to fire from on the horizon 

The whistled dirge was that blind man’s siren 

Hung about “the now,” but rang out the future 

I’ll never forget the odd musical intruder 

Leaving a message behind when facing heat

Step out anyway, lest you surrender to defeat 

2017 BJ

Thanking all lovely thoughts today

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