Giants

Giants

Winters grip is on our town


Frost is everywhere, 
snow banks piled high,

School kids in cold weather dress hunker down


The air so cold my breath becomes a visible sigh

Each morning I drive past the school


I see the kids, the moms, and the dads


A crossing guard too

A hunched over, shuffling old man, 
slow moving bones make him seem somehow sad


I wonder what drives that old guy

Why fight the bitter cold and wicked snow


What rewards for him when storm clouds churn the sky


What makes him drag on his winter coat and boots to go


The snow twirls blind and stirs my mind


Suddenly then through a sideways frosty glance

I see a father, a son, and an infantryman of some kind

Strong and powerful, willful and intent in his stance

It’s a ghostly scene that I’ve just been shown


My minds eye blurred, visions like windblown snowflakes whipped


Truths of heavy labor and toils on the farmers’ ground


Adventures on new trains and great wooden ships


He’s been a son, a brides groom and a fine father they say


He’s been to war and paid his dues


Buried many friends on their last days

Lifted his son in joy...life brand new


I press my throttle and drive on by


And its no surprise what I see with a backward glance

A giant of a man, his arms raised high

A warning there, 
strong and powerful, willful and intent in his stance


He guides our child safely cross the road


And that’s just what he has done as years have piled high


Kept us all safe, holding off the foe


That Crossing guard, that giant of a man, that hero of mine.

Gunner©