Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.135.220.9
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
As I rounded the bend aka driveway to the school, a precarious-looking something caught my eye.
I thought it was a garbage bag, and could not imagine what it was doing where the crossing guard stays.
He is not here this early, so I turned, and gave it another quick look. It was not a garbage bag.
It was a man, wrapped in a blanket. Hm.  This is a grade school entry point. What is he doing here?
At a quarter to seven in the morning? Rumors have circulated about homeless living in the woods.
Woods behind our school, woods that are extensive, and extend from our school to the next school.
That is where my mind immediately traveled. Okay, today is cooler, but not cold. What then?
What happens to this man when the temperatures plummet, and the ice and snow arrives?
Luckily we have a large metal crisscross fence that keeps the children from the woods, but
What about the man, what happens when he gets so cold he cannot stand it? Does he come closer?
Does he sit in the sun, next to our brick building?  Does he think about how warm and cozy it is in here?
Does he sit under the trees, dreaming of when he was in school, warm, safe, away from the elements?
One tiny thing, and yet, it has me thinking.   I ask another teacher if he is still there when she arrives.
He is gone, but to where? And does he have a coat? Mittens? Food? Is there a tent in the woods?
Do they have a campfire at night? Is there only a lone man, or is there a family?  Are there children?
My imagination will not let this go. It is going haywire, and for what reason? Am I hopping the fence?
Am I jumping into the woods? Am I looking for the tent? Am I taking these people home with me?
I have done this kind of thing before, and from experience, I know it almost always ends rather badly.
Hello, Joe, there are people living in the woods. What do you want me to do about it?
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required