Bus Stop

I see a man, waiting
In cold,
At a bus stop.

The bus arrives
He does not board
And I wonder why.

Instead He sits,
Finding a cold bench,
His face distant,

Numb to the cold.
Odd— He sits-
Why?

One bus
One destination
No choices

I see him rise
He leaves—
Entering the kitchen,

I make hot tea.
Sip- staring at …
I see a man waiting.