On the day of a bad interview

On the day of a bad interview,

Snow fell gently outside the office windows -

Blanketing a world different from the one

The man from the city inhabited here,

His look of consternation and doubt

An accompaniment to my own awakening truth

That sprang from the caverns of my chest

And swelled in my throat with each passing minute.

~

While answering his questions, I stole glimpses

Of the winter world outside. Its peace and

Supreme beauty seemed to say more than

The city man behind the desk, his thick neck

Bulging from the starched collar of a white

Button-down. He played football, while I never

Stepped onto a football field. That fact alone

Doomed my chances before we ever sat down.

~

At the end of the interview, the city man looked

At his watch, wishing me luck with any

Future endeavors that might come along -

As if to imply that the future belonged

To anything but that very instant; that very moment

In which the falling snow outside gifted the earth

Another day to slumber, another day to rest,

Before waking with the sudden vigor of a new spring.