I watched a man-
a construction worker-
eat a sandwich at
a huge picture
window, a fifth story window.

Outside the snow slowed to
a float, flakes
suspended in the grey
New England morning.

He sat heavy on
an upturned crate and
chewed, looked out the window
over his shoulder at
the slabby world around him.

Outside light snow rose upward
past him on the
opposite side of the
glass and hung, hovered – paused.

He wiped the corners of
his mouth and
gazed hard one more time,

tossed the wrapper to
the ground, pressed hands
to knees,
lifted,
and strode back to building.

Outside snow sifted
downward again,
finely,
then furiously.