Winter Poem

Flight

Mama said wisely, “A boy gets to be a man when a man is needed. Remember this thing. I have known boys forty years old because there was no need for a man.”
“When did Pepe come to be a man?” Emilo asked.
“Last night, “said Rosy. “Last night in Monterey.” The ocean clouds turned red with the sun that behind the mountain.
Rosy looked around at him. She drew her knowledge from the quiet air. “He has gone on a journey. He will never come back.”
“is he dead? Do you think he is dead?”
Rosey looked back at the ocean again. a little steamer, drawing a line of smoke sat on the edge of the horizon. “He is not dead,” Rosy explained. “Not yet.”
Pepe rested the big rifle across the saddle in front of him. He let the horse walk up the hill and he didn't look back. The stony slope took on a coast of short bursh so that Pepe found the entrance to a trial and entered it…
It was a long struggle to get to his feet. he crawled slowly and mechanically to the top of a big rock on the ridge peak. Once there, he arose slowly, swaying to his feed, and stood erect. Far below he could see the dark brush where he had slept. he braced his feet and stood there, black against the morning sky.
There came a ripping sound at his feet. A piece of stone flew up and a bullet droned off into the next gorge. The hollow crash echoed up from below. Pepe looked down for a moment and then pulled himself straight again.
His body jarred back. His left hand fluttered helplessly toward his breast. The second crash sounded from below. Pepe swung forward and toppled form the rock. his body struck and rolled over and over, starting a little avalanche. And when at least he stopped against a bush, the avalanche slid slowly down and covered up his head.

John Steinbeck