Now an old man comes down the street.
Labor of farms, labor of
whatever it was they did when he was young,
and now that the bones are tired
to work again under the new regime
winter enforces, and the winter of age.
That is a pipe in his mouth.
Now the children are crossing the street.
Dressed up for anything
mittened and blue-eyed.
Hear how they shout to each other, Hi Yo,
Hello, or Billy! Billy!
Cars honk, a window is rolled down,
a woman in a long red coat walks like
a sudden parade rounding a corner
out of the hairdress shop.