sometimes dragged his ladder out to work on his house,
maybe painting his shutters
or fixing his porch light.
We were just nodding neighbors,
he had no children or wife
and never got familiar with the people who lived around him
I got to know other neighbors who were good with their hands
because they’d ask for advice or to borrow my tools
and we’d share our ideas and our wrenches and spades
but he seemed to know what he needed to know
and to own what he needed to own.
From atop his ladder he must have seen us
living our lives
raising our kids
a world below him
that never quite reached the rung on which he stood.
I was told one day that the old man had died
and gradually his house began to fall into neglect,
the gutters began to sag
and the paint began to peel.
Eventually new people moved in.
My children gone now
my house has also grown older
and occasionally I have to get out my ladder again too.
I climb up and clear a fallen limb from my shingles
or drive a new screw where my soffit has loosened
and while up there I notice the bustle
of the newer people who now live near me.
I hear the clatter of their young lives
as they raise their children
and work busily on their homes.
I don’t really know them
as they are just nodding neighbors
and I know they hardly notice me
as I lean against my gable
watching their world down below.