A Wise Man

Standing,
Perfectly angled toward a star.
The line of visible light
In the invisible air.

I have had this image in my mind for four days now and I keep thinking.
Then I got a call from my sister.

My sister told me a story. The story of her day. She expanded on one moment a bit more than the rest, walking past her nativity scene--a glaring reminder. One missing wiseman. For one Christmas the set was complete, but due to somewhat foggy circumstances the wiseman lost his way. She searched everywhere for it, ebay, her house; it was a lost cause. No one was making it and no one was selling.
On a whim I looked around on the internet a bit for the wiseman, finding him too quickly. I was sure it must not be true, but it was him. My bid runs out in thirty minutes. I continually check to see the status of bidding.

My repeating image continues. Maybe we will all find our way in time.

Stamina

In...wide open.

Out...a whirling whoosh.

A bent leg.

Curled toe.

Crack...push.

Wind, wicking the wet brow.

Wanting each curved corner,

Forgetting the feverish fibers.

Expiring wheezes.

A focused finish.

The Den

A green gooseneck chair in a square room. 
The box television with its ears at attention.
The scattered lines across the screen against the grassy turf background. 
Perched on the iron end table it hangs.
A coffee can of ash below. 
He laddles it, packing it thumb down before puffing and sucking the matchstick flame. 
Sweet smells of tobacco surround the staticy cheers of the boxed crowd.
Touchdown.