After
years on his route
He sits
still in humble shade
Reluctantly
idling
In a
lower gear
He
sits still in humble shade
Slowly
surrendering
To the winged passengers on his arms
The
browning of his lawn
He
starts slightly in his seat
To the
four o’ clock
Tsik
tsik tsik of his neighbor’s sprinkler
Bends
a foot out of the encroaching sun
After
years on his route
He reverses
further from the road
Foot
off the pedal- out of the sun
The
last stop
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