Poems of Charles Hice 

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 The Warder

The Warder
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The old man spine was bent his head was hanging at an awkward angle he searched the ground while he was walking for what he could not have stopped and picked anything up. The cane was fancy one with a hook for a handle his hat was piled up high to keep the sun and wind away his coat so thick to keep the rain away he did not just walk he warded the elements away the warder walked in boots of rubber so oversize but on this man they did not seem clownish or childish they fit him to his size a large and gentle man his bedroll hung on a strap beside him hanging down swinging while he walked the most important part of all his gear for winter come. The thing eye noticed most was this survivor walked in hope and quiet solitude not moping or depressed he gave me hope this warder perhaps he even knoes who GOD is?


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