Just a Passing Man

Chances you won’t see him if you’re busy in your mind.

Just a Passing Man

Just a passing man
with eyes on his feet,
going somewhere
carving his own street.

A mad as the stormy
a sky can make, 
its fierce wind is tamed,
a breeze in his wake.

He walks lightly
as if he is falling up,
slouching to somewhere,
tripping on his luck.

Strangers feed him well 
and carry his weight.
They show him silence
lend an e…