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Poem

Between 96th and 104th Street on Broadway
A mid age man holds high his bible as he shouts and struts.

From year to year he holds his route
When day is lit or turns to night
His chants I hear in words of worth
His strained voice reaches some looking out windows
Those traversing sidewalk sometimes stand and stare
He stands few feet away in worn shoes twisted to one side
His felt hat on salt and pepper hair gives gentlemanly air
He could have been a GQ type in earlier times
A worn leather bag heavy laden with tracks and books
Is draped  on one shoulder.

He hands colored tracks to anyone
While lovingly he chants:"GOD! GOD! GOD!"
"I LOWYOU! ILOWYOU! ILOWYOU! GOD! GOD!"
Over and over his chanting holds rhythm
Contentment rings clear, but by golly! the man speaks no English
The bible is held high as he shares.

I've seen him writing countless checks for
Religious cause each first of the month
He writes until the lot is done; then from the post office
He ventures right back on Broadway to share
Salvation tracks; yes, he holds high his bible
And strut, and strut, unashamed; unafraid
His ministry to him, means a lot.

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