The coldest week since
We’ve moved to Weidling
The brook frozen up
Siberian cold air swept along
The main road
My legs numbed
A cough shakes my body
The local doc listens to my
Report and issues scripts
Also for Mrs B
Who has too much pain
Walking in these icy conditions.
The bus is late and intends to
Drive off without noticing me
I bang my crutch against the
Metal and swear ostensibly.
As the driver finally noticed me
He stops again and lets me in.
Damn him.
First he was four minutes late
And what’s the hurry now?
The pharmacist at Weidling
Station is inexperienced
Not knowing about the dozing
Albeit I have told her
She wishes to check back with
Doc W’s office
But she never calls me back.
Mrs M does.
All’s well but it’s not well.
This week there’ll be still
Extremely low temperatures
Before the wintry pain will be
Kicked out by an oncoming
New spring.
SUN – where are you?
B says.
Like a delicate plant she cannot
Live without the golden rays
Of life.
I think of Karpathos’ Isle.
zoltanzelan ZJG-POetry’18.
