The Delivery In Late Winter Poem by Daniel Brick

I would be lying if I said
to you, "This is just a job to me."
Week after week, with snow still
piled high on both sides of the walkway,
I bring supplies to your house, and you
tell me the mounds are so tall you can
only see my black fedora when I approach
your door. "It's funny, " you laugh.
"We only see a black hat bouncing
above the whiteness. But we know it's you,
and that's reassuring." Oh, yes, I'm thinking
later, it is reassuring to have one person
who never fails you, even in small matters.
It almost brings me to tears to be so trusted.
I distribute the supplies you are entitled to,
and give each of your kids an extra bag of
chocolate hearts. I often wish I could give
you a gift of candy hearts, a heartfelt gift
I mean. But that is not the way things are.
We live in times of survival, not happiness,
and I must be content to be your rescuer,
and not your special friend. Do you linger
at the door watching my fedora vanishing in the snow?