A Portrait of Circumstance

The grip
on his crutch
is soiled and worn
on a path
of confusion.

He hobbles
but not
in a way
to move forward.

He is part of a landscape
the open air artist
is painting.

There are lavender shadows
on the backs
of his shoes.

The tips of his fingers,
cerulean blue,
as he reaches
to pull in the sun.

He is telling a story,
acting a parable
were fairness
is a cover of clouds
and milkweed
is blown in the air.

He scribbles on pages
were words
seem too weak,

then talks to his dreams
and learns
that tomorrow
is more
of the same.