His Name was Anthony

His Name was Anthony

I happened to glance at the clock…
it was 2:09 a.m.

Before heading out the door—
the words,
“Go…bring glad tidings to the poor,”
spoke to me.

Bursting into the frigid
air, I immediately spotted Luna—
she was covered in a swath
of clouded vapor.
Still, her luminous light
split the veil between us.

I spoke out, “glad tidings to You,”
and I began my trek.

I breathed in the chill of
the early morning…

I was not even 10 minutes
into my pace when
CRASH—
I heard cans spilling onto the concrete,
glass spattering all over the roadway
AND then a river of expletives…
white water, rapids spewing
from a stranger’s lips—
his cart full of cans
swallowed by a pothole.

I approached the man and said,
“I’ll help.”  He was surprised by my
presence and the first words spoken—
“I’m sorry for my language…
I got this far and…”

I said, “It’s alright—let’s pick-up
the cans,” and the man said, “Thanks.”

We pitched the empty bottles back
into the cart—the grocery store
ONLY a stone’s throw away.
The man said, “I don’t want any
of this glass to pop a tire…”  I said,
“Don’t worry we’ll sweep it to
the side.”

We worked together and before
going each our separate way,
we lifted the cart from its
abyss.  The stranger said,”Happy Holidays” and I replied,
“Merry Christmas”—
The man said, “Yeah,
Merry Christmas—Thank you.”

I looked into the night sky
and began to walk…
I was only a short distance
when the stranger shouted back,
“Hey, I AM Anthony.”
I waved back,  “Sandy.”

A shooting star spilled down
from the sky above

and I whispered,
“Thank you Anthony for
brining ‘me’ glad tidings.”