Wednesday, November 30, 2005

A Bluegrass Festival on the Hillside

Midnight campfires
twinkle under the summer stars.
Someone tunes a mandolin
in the warm July darkness. Then
a harmony of voices begins.
Further up the hill
a battle of banjo and fiddle
under a canopy near the trees.
The sound of your guitar
draws me to our campsite.
The propane lantern on the table hisses.
You stand in a tight circle
of friends, following the thread
of the song. Without a pause,
you smile as I move
into the circle of light.
The musicians are fired up -
you will play until sunrise.
I slip out of the lamplight.
In our little tent
I listen as the shifting breeze
takes the songs drifting up the hill
and composes its own music.

Published in the Spring / Summer 2004 Issue of Pine Island Journal of New England Poetry.

1 comment:

KoldKadavr said...

No problem, girly. We're all head-injured somehow HawrHawr Take a lookit this ... Gotta lotta say. I was only a naïve 19 when I began… and finished my novel with a plethora of extremely helpful insights which you may have not yet realized; engrossing wit, sardonic satire; and basically straight-forward-Jesus that’d make anyone cognizant this is only a test of our Finite Existence. For we alone decide which Eternity to go to, Upstairs or DownTown, because we alone have free-choice. Thus, God Almighty respects U.S. when we arrive at the Final Judgment because sHe loves U.S.

Phazers on stun. I talk of a Heavenly Scent, an ardent desire with the whiff of a definite locale, while I bolster the mean, Great Beyond with the passion of a magnanimous madman: Full of some gorgeous, panoramic, tall-true-tales making U.S. yearn and sigh for Heaven Above; A novel of short-stories, quotes, prayers, poetry, hardcore-heartbreaking-hilarity, aggressive conundrums, Salvador-Dali-homily, and some savvy-MHz, avant-garde, Phat-Boy-Christianity from a severely, head-injured Catholic you might call crazy. That’s, uh, all very well-N-good... but, yet, who ever said YOU were sane? Touché? After this is all over, I expect Him to edit my theoretical cranium. I seeeriously doubt He will, though. Jesus loves the crazies who aren’t necessarily conformed by what others think.

What you’ll find in my wonderful, fruitFULL, dynamic novel is an indelible treasure, unlike any other in the known cosmos. It’s by moi. And I’m one-of-a-kind. Not bragging, brudda. He threw away the mold. ONE o’me is plenty HeeHee If you decide to read this delicious script, get in touch with my CPA, Edward Foree, at 1-785-266-9111. Out this month. Poifect for both X-mass and/or evangelism!

GOD BLESS YOU WITH DISCERNMENT!!