half Norse bearded,
sweater clad
he, reads
the paper
and eats
s
l
o
w

‘tis mad
for a man with less
time,
than frantic me

and while the
pen
still drips
he, almost Odin,
finishes bread and cheese,
folds his glasses,
then,

the news
and gets on with it
on with his way,
his day
before I
can muster a thought