Cold, lonely, and dog-eared tired
he turned his face to the wind
tilting toward the windmills
in the distant sky.
Troubles fell from black, dark clouds,
buckets, huge droplets of pain.
The cold bit sharply into his skin
raising welts of doubt,
but he pressed on
against the wind and rain
Set not a cross on this man’s back;
he’s not the savior nor a prophet.
Everyman tilts against the wind
and pain and rain Everyday.
cold, lonely, dog-eared tired
face to the win.