At the window
as pelts from the frozen rain
assault the pane
Across the hill
I see the man in a hooded coat
surely wishing he could float
along the path
with the icy wind behind
praying he will find
what he’d lost
somewhere at the start
when he’d broken his heart
when all seemed possible
and yet it never was
and he knows because
from where he walks
he sees me, too,
murky in the glass, so true
that every time
when the rain comes
both of us search for crumbs
of something akin to wonder
so the storm can’t hold us down
or throw us to the ground
At the window
watching the man in the rain
certainly, you know him.
David W. Berner is the author of several books of personal narrative and fiction. He has been honored as the writer-in-residence at the Jack Kerouac Project and the Ernest Hemingway Birthplace Home.
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