missing

She asked if I would miss
The snow and
I
said “No,” thinking that
what I might
miss,
if anything,
would be the warmth of the
hearth, the brittleness of
the early
morning,
the need for the extra
comforter at midnight.
The idea
of
it
all,
mostly
as I walk along the
windswept beach
in December.

daily

They congregate at the corner of Main and Elm every morning, reaching a top of about 50 or so right around eight-thirty, when the traffic is heaviest and the contractors and landscapers head off to the nearby mansions and almost manses. Some sit and smoke. Some stand and drink coffee. Some talk. Others just watch, as the other life of Fairfield County bypasses them, in a hurry – investors on the way to invest; mothers taking children to childcare; high school students driving their BMWs and Mercedes and Mini-Coopers to class. The dichotomy seems stark to some who see it, the affluence and desperation in such close proximity. Others just shrug it off. The men waiting for work, hoping for a payday, simply continue to sit, smoke, stand, drink coffee.