Homeless Poem by Birgit Bunzel Linder

I woke up to a snow-laden sky
Turned without my watch from green to grey
At the wayside shrine for homeless spirits
Where we met on our way to justice

Day follows day into recumbent nights
As we make spirited wicks from plant piths
Sitting near the plump cauldron
And staring at deliquescent clouds

Our feelings hardened like wax in winter
And the heart laboring under a coat of frost
Suddenly you look up and smile
The flicker in your eyes so much brighter
Than the limp lamplight at my village door