I remember a Hazleton winter
The cars skidding off the road
Mountains of snow drifting ten feet high
The strong winds showing no mercy
It was quite a relief to get out of the cold,
to be inside my father’s produce store,
standing by the kerosene heater,
feeling my icy toes dethaw
For a moment, I felt a breath of spring
when I opened the wooden crates
of tangerines, fresh apricots,
and unwrapped the red delicious apples
I eventually got warm
with a steaming hot cup of coffee
while my snowy boots formed a puddle
in the middle of my father’s concrete floor.
About the Poet
Mark Tulin is a former family therapist who lives in Ventura, California. He is a Pushcart Prize nominee and has authored Magical Yogis, Awkward Grace, The Asthmatic Kid and Other Stories, and a forthcoming poetry collection—Junkyard Souls. Mark has appeared in over a hundred publications, anthologies, and podcasts. He can be found at https://www.crowonthewire.com.
For the first time in nearly five years, Vita Brevis is closed for submission. Read the full story here.
This is beautiful. You make the scene very easy to see and smell
I enjoyed this very much. Imagery and sensory detail spot on. Thank you for writing