Choices

On a cold January day
snow came first.
Later,
ice and sleet.
More snow
cold, lots of cold
acting like solder
holding everything down,
everything together.
Cars frozen like Excalibur
in ice,
sustained by cold.
 
Men, old men in electric scooters
stay hidden, safe today
    from ice and blowing winds
Even snowplows working hard
Can’t prevent
ice and snow filling streets
around us
for days
as low temperatures
and  high piles of ice
    so hard that snow
on top left ghost
shoe prints visible only
in good light, moon light,
and slick
very slick
 
Life gradually resumed:
    people walking by our house
    
        did so primarily in the street
only recently revealed
after ice-encased days
Black top now shining
again
 
no longer grey,
nor white
no longer hidden under layers
of snow and ice
    Paper, cigarettes, trash no longer
hidden under clean fresh snowfalls
        under ice that acts
        as a magnifying glass
 
revealed now
by a man
walking by,
    cane in hand
instead of riding
He stoops
    awkwardly,
        reaches down,
picks up
    wet-gray-black cigarette stub
        Puts it in his mouth
            Turns away from the wind
        Lights it and walks   .   .   .  On
 
Smoking like a chimney
    Spitting phlegm 
    on a Wednesday
As he heads off
    Towards
Either
    liquor store
    or
    church
On the other side
of the railroad tracks
    across from each other
 
Life is full of choices:
    but only sometimes;
    only for some.