He felt it

upon walking through the door.

He met the spirit of the place 

and, recognizing not his hunger but

the food that quelled it,

eyes searched piles and corners,

while feet took him further inside

than the visit required.

Touching countertop, dishing questions,

noticing, lingering, sensing, offering,

eventually the task on the roof-

the reason for the call-

pulled him back outside to search there, too,

for holes letting in winter rain.

A ladder leans against an eave

though his warm blood and yellow shirt

departed down cold canyon road an hour ago.

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