His shoulders sat
strong with moving,
powering forward
claiming the path
cut for him
with serious eyes.
Arms found
comfort with swaying,
claiming the air
like long lazy
summer strides
reaching into dusk.
Suspicion hung
curtain thick
on his blue
well worn shirt
from faces
seeking questions.
Through the crowd
past open fires
where hands paused
he moved
to the road
shadowed into night.
Roger Singer 