The Blind Song
Summer’s fading
Turning to fall
Each day the sun declines
The man on the steps
Witnesses it all
And waits to hear the signs.
It’s the wolf of the north
That brings the chill
And the snow that seals it all.
He might not see the autumn display
But he hears each bright leaf fall.
Now winter’s here
A powdery hush
Dims the usual sound
Some turns to ice
Some turns to slush
And soaks the frozen ground.
For the man on the steps it stays the same
The world is a constant gray
And he knows nothing will be the same
Since his vision went away.
The man knows he is fortunate
To have his vision so long
It’s the memories of the bright lit world
That help him get along
But the passing of seasons
It seems so strange
When a blankness
Spans the year
Any hopes inside
Something will change
That will make all the fog clear
He might not see the autumn display
But he hears each bright leaf fall.
©2020 Craig Hansen