Teacher

When over the ranch house roof lined sky
Rises the sun-drum major of the marching band
Of cloud and bird, and hour and passerby –
Then I spot the ageless man, all tanned and spry.

I am there, a curtain – of smoke and coffee scent
I know his face, unchanged in twenty years
His skin is sunned, his socks pulled high, and evident
Is his good health at years past sixty, carefully spent.

His gait is strong, his blond hair thin, and his physique
Puts decades younger men to shame, and true
To his habits, eccentric, disciplined, and unique
His sneakers pound my sidewalk every dawn of every week.

For twenty years, shorts and t-shirt he has strolled
Down our streets, this high school teacher
Practicing faithfully all the lessons he’d doled
To be clean, and lean, and sober, ascetic and controlled.

What sort of sounds are in his headphones I can’t say
Linked to some old organ grinder at his waist
But as I recall, he was humorous and fond of play
Impervious to grief, defeat, or dismay.

This man always bought the same model car,
A Mustang each time the old one quit,
And never was he spotted at a local bar,
Nor with a wife or children; lonesome, bizarre.