The Man Upstairs

This man upstairs
running a vacuum…
He’s a big man
unafraid of things
that frighten lesser men…
things like aprons
like small children
needing braids
needing noses wiped…
He wears a Santa hat
for no money
for the smiles
of little kids…
He wears his age
like a crown
his beard
like a laurel wreath…
He owns gnarled hands
as lesser men own money
his years of laughter
in the creases
around his eyes…
He has earned
the love of old dogs
and old women
the laughter of
little children…

Sometimes his eyes
look far away
into his own heart
into another time
see what might be
if he were perfect…
Always he returns
to the Grace of Now
of Human Being…
Always he returns
to the ocean of gratitude
for what is and may be.

This is the man
who paints beauty
with his eyes
who exhales joy
enough for the moment
saves the rest
for when it’s needed…
Who laughs at his own
imperfections
who calls those
of whom he loves
beautiful and generous
because they allow
his strengths to grow…
Whose laughter heals
those who love him…

His laughter is strong
medicine for weakness…
His strength grows
in his stumbling…
He is whole and entire
like the hawk spinning
riding the wind
teaching her young
to love the fickleness
of updrafts and inversions…

The noise of the vacuum
stops and is replaced
by his tread on the stairs…
He leans down to stroke
the old bitch on the sofa
turned belly-up
and they both smile.

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About janemwoodman

Singer, writer, restaurant reviewer, urban farmer, devoted lover of my husband....old and getting happier all the time.
This entry was posted in Free verse, joy, love, Poetry, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to The Man Upstairs

  1. Sapphire By the Sea says:

    What a beautiful tribute!

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