My daily walk brings me to a man
on his knees, before him
his paintbrush sweeps across the
flower box, following a fine
grain of wood
wrist firm, strokes as feathers
a smile teaching me.
Cautious of his energy’s reach
shoppers hurry
along the busy esplanade,
don’t wish for any walnut stains
on their fancy duds. Brushing
continues, fingers strong with practice
not caring about stares
nor snickers and taunts intending
to be mean, “Hey you missed a spot.”
Other comments dressed in nasty names
cutting to the quick.
I know better he's a worker
been at it two hours,
not even a coffee break.
A flickering wrist creates
its own pace, back and forth
a smile a minute, stain on his chin
doesn't give a toot.
Satisfied look on his face, he's
happy. I'm jealous.
© Richard L. Provencher
