cronechronicler

Exploring the poetry of everyday life

Passing Strangers

on November 20, 2016

On a sunny day in Mexico
Sitting on a high stool at a high table
Eating a delicious morsel, savoring solitude
I noticed a man walking toward me
Vintage-aged and lost in thought.

Lazily I noted his white t-shirt
Imprinted with an Indian in a feathered head-dress
Cleveland I immediately concluded
Then corrected myself
Chicago Black Hawks! Aha! I was a hockey mom.

The gentleman passed by
I spoke quietly “Go Black Hawks”
He looked at me, blue eyes now focused
Responding in kind, “Go Black Hawks”
He smiled, said “Thank you” and moved on.

The sunny day in Mexico
A beam of human interaction
Warmed my soul I feel it still.
I pray our fractured world
Will be surprised to recognize such commonality.


12 responses to “Passing Strangers

  1. den169 says:

    Heart-warming story.

  2. TJ Reynolds says:

    Great post, my friend. Thank you for sharing. Check out my site if you’d like to read my poetry, as well…

  3. Christy B says:

    This was a wonderful moment of connection ❤

  4. vivachange77 says:

    Yes, Christy. It still makes me smile to think of it. ❤

  5. Eileen says:

    Yes, I pray if enough of us are open to these chances to connect, we will manage to find our strength in our shared humanity.

  6. hbsuefred says:

    Sports, and the connections made and life lessons learned through them. I like to think of them as metaphors for many aspects of society, including divisive or united politics. If nothing else, they are certainly universal.

  7. theburningheart says:

    Ah the Ser Jacopo Maxima!

    Once in Mexico about ten years ago visiting my town saw a tourist seating at a cafe smoking a pipe, I was in a hurry to meet some friends, and couldn’t stop, but I recognized the pipe brand and the style, since I posses one myself so I said in passing : Ser Jacopo Maxima!
    He was totally startled looking at me gone already. I am sure he wonder for a long time who was the stranger who knew the exact name of the pipe he was smoking, and of all places in a town in Mexico where hardly nobody smokes pipes, some was able to recognize his Italian pipe! 🙂

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