She is bundled up against fierce winter winds.
Her hat sits at a jaunty angle on her brow,
and the pom-pom on top shakes as she walks.
She pulls a suitcase behind her like a reluctant child
balking at every bump and crack.
as she mumbles to herself,
looking up at the sky to praise God,
or curse the cold.
While rush hour traffic swerves around her,
and impatient drivers curse her,
she continues on her
journey down the middle of a busy street.