Gratitude to you, young woman,
sliding your squeegee across the glass,
wiping its blade dry again.
Praise for the care you’re taking
applying yourself side to side.
Inside the circle, the track
of our field house. We both find
ourselves inside, April surprising
the fields. It’s snowing!
More than the redwings like,
than even the jonquils can
stand. The kind of snow
that sticks to glass, that weeps,
when it becomes too warm
in here. Thank-you for what
you’re doing. And how. Making
the world see-throughable.
Custodian to the view and your job.
Fingerprints disappear.
What we can’t believe we’re seeing.
We say to each other, pane-by-pane,
lap after lap. It’s winter again.
The redwings pack their red
and black bags.
— By Gary Margolis, Cornwall