Old Rituals

                               Old Rituals                                  
                                                      Arlene Levin  ( c) 2020

Before my mirror I stand,

Morning reflections in a warm light.

I stare eye to eye and smile at old rituals.

    Into a child's ear a voice whispers,

    "Clean neck and fingernails,

    Fresh underwear, Hair aligned,

    Pants creased, Blouse pressed"

   Ready, I step out onto the street

   Past the fresh dog poop
  That sits prophetically at my front door.

 The rain begins in the early afternoon.

 The temperature drops to a damp cold.

 I shiver past my store-window reflection,

 Hunched shoulders beaten in the down-pour

Enter here.

Rest for a moment in a warm cafe

with a hot coffee elixir.

I walk to the ladies room. 

Dark, I flick the switch.

Fluorescent blue bounces off white walls.

Before the mirror I stand,

Afternoon reflections in a harsh light.

I stare eye to eye and laugh at old rituals

As I dry and comb my hair.