Poetry of the day

Up Against

First I hear his growling.

Turning , I see him in the dark

shadows of some municipal tree,

standing upright in his winter rags ;

this derelict with defiant eyes

hurling rebuke at the sky, the city,

the total bigness of life –

doing what I ought to , really.

Exulting, I go and stand next

to him, facing the cold night,

almost shake my fists, rebelling.

Till he turns to me, not giving

an inch, shouting insults at me

as if I remain part of it all –

what he is up against.

Not surprised , I nod ,

walk away .