imperative

A man on the street in arctic cold
shouts have a blessed day
at every passerby

until I come to believe it imperative.

He has no alms bowl, but his hat
is on the sidewalk in front of him
and I wonder how his ears are
holding up against the cold.

No one is willing
to take the gloves off
long enough to fish a dollar out.

The upturned hat holds nothing
but he is going nowhere
in spite of the cold,

and I think he is shouting
past passersby, wrapping himself
in the sound of his voice

the way Jacob wrapped himself in fur
to fool old blind Isaac into bestowing
a blessing, though in this cold

that could be the stew
he traded Esau for a shot at
pulling the wool over the old man's eyes,
hoping this day to be blessed.

—Steven Schroeder

++++++++++

Having a nice day,

having your keys inside

the locked car.

—participant

++++++++++

“but he is going nowhere”
  and has now arrived there.
Nothing needs to be done
  in this bless-ed space.
For “no one is willing
  to take the gloves off”
and so he is free of distractions,
  blessing the passing folk,
nudging them away
  from their routine
towards the blessings
  of the day.


The Almsgiver

He stands at the corner
  giving alms to the passersby
who, unlike him,
  have no upturned hat
or alms bowl to receive.

“Have a blessed day” he bestows
  on each and because
their hat covers their ears,
  unlike his,
they cannot receive
  his alms giving.

Is there merit
  in alms giving
with no receiver?
  or is the charity
to self & God?

—Jeffery Taylor

++++++++++

So his practice,
shouting blessed day,
was not so
anyone would hear.

It was bitter cold.

his mouth
was frozen shut—
he could only mean
the words.

His hat, begging
for coins,
remained cold
and empty.

What was blessed
about this day?

Was it
his practice?
His intention?
His trying to share?

Did it matter
he was frozen,
yet blessed?

—Kim Mosley