The Last Ovation

to face that winter night to watch the heap below the sweep, the belching chimney pipe and lights, dulled by fog and snow the wind, as well, it swallowed whole became that final movement - the last ovation and winter took its hold. and, in watching this unfold I saw the soul of man, who was alone that is to say, he waits for spring until, at once, she took his hand and losing sight of all that cold the wind, the snow, the buried heap, that tired soul of man, asleep with frost upon his weathered brow and leather on his feet