Wizard In Red Rain

Wizard In Red Rain
© Surazeus
2018 02 13

The old man wandering down the busy street,
after the rain soaked his old tattered cloak,
mutters softly to himself as he glares
past the faces of people strolling by.

"Remember, a wizard is never late,
for he arrives precisely when he means to.
If you are referring to the incident
with the dragon, I was barely involved."

Pausing at the intersection where cars
zoom past on rubber tires spinning like wings,
the old man, with long gray hair to his hips,
peers at faces of people walking by.

"Weird how hobbits, elves, dwarves, and men now seem
all blended into one new human race,
and engines of Saruman, fueled by fire
of dragons, power wagons with souls of horses."

Stepping into the middle of the road,
the old man raises his cane in both hands
and shouts at garbage truck, "You shall not pass!"
so the startled driver slams his breaks hard.

Flash of sunlight in falling red rain
blinds our eyes when the truck hits the old man,
then we gather around his bloodied body
and feel his spirit strike our hearts with sorrow.