One dark morning,
I saw a man walking in the rain,
Striding over a sea of concrete,
Plodding over puddles of dirty water.
His midnight overcoat
Rippled and danced about him,
Breathed into demonic half-life
By a frigid autumn wind.
His face was obscured
By a battered black umbrella
Bucking and snarling in the wind.
Furiously he struggled with his unwilling shield until,
In a sudden burst of rage,
He cursed and threw it onto the pavement.
Unveiled, he stomped forth like an angry stormtrooper,
The dim light illuminating his sharp features.
The sky reflected his eyes—
Grey, sullen, possessed with Death,
The savage eyes of a wolf
Hackles raised to meet the storm.
There was madness,
Animal fury and panic in that stare.
His lips were twisted into a tight scowl,
And the long dark hair which framed his face
Flew disheveled behind him.
Let me out of this cage!
The air about him roared.
Let me out before I kill someone!
I watched him go,
Dragging his briefcase beside him,
And realized that I knew this man...
His very soul.
George Chadderdon © 1993