A Hazleton Winter – Poetry by Mark Tulin

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.

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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.