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
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