A Winter Vigil Poem by B. V. Dahlen

I stood.
The wind blistered my cheeks
and the cold numbed me through.
My breath clouded the air
and made a smoke screen
to hide my features.
People passed
shivering under weighty layers,
hands in pockets,
collars turned against the wind.
Cars, warm islands in an icy sea,
sped by without a backward glance
from the passengers within.
I stamped my feet.
I could not feel them anymore.
The wind spoke.
It's deep throated moan
crept down alleyways
and side streets,
accompanied by the chatter
of my teeth.
I stood...
for endless hours
watching,
hoping,
waiting,
and then at last
the bus came.