Somewhere,
out in the middle of nowhere,
there is a space,
where bare bones performance's
are nightly taking place,
like theatre at its best,
thrilling energy
a chill in the air,
you are creating
unique worlds on a stage
& I hear it's all the rage
a modest audience,
captivating you are
so utterly charming and memorable,
I can get lost in your woods
in that beautifully familiar rural spot,
harvesting &
catching hay fever,
running through the barns
in empty old bays
of long vacant farms,
while the cattle graze placidly,
my usung heroes beckon,
along split rail fences,
haunting..
along the old railroad beds,
down unknown highways
& on little know by ways
& drifting in skyways
through the years & the tears
as the last of the Summer flowers,
bloom and bow their head,
in the rain & the pain,
and the words you gently hear
whispered softly in your ear,
spoke clearly to the sky
as they sadly say goodbye
& promised I wouldn't cry,
I listen to exactly what they said
as they are applauded for their stamina,
& bravery, as the chlorophyll,
chokes out the beauty
in everything else,
a way to take in the natural beauty,
**** a big breath in
& waiting to exhale,
I'm hiking home, ...
to my poetic theater,
with tables scattered  about,
& mushroom stools,
a wonderland of  creatures
around weaving arts,
threads spun in gold,
of my everyday life
again it  is told,
like in a romantic candlelit
dinner date,
we sit beneath an glowing
incandescent Moon,
we are a rare & lucid,
sighting, two stars
two colors merged
from a Gods crayon box,
or a well thought out picnic
with a very special friend
farm to table wonders
delicious in every way,
you close your eyes to dream,
& all you ever need,
is an element of trust,
a sense of adventure,
appreciating the sacrifices
the pleasure fills the air
I'm traveling past,
as is if without a care
swimming in the frigid clean
& cold waters,
rolling mountains protect me on every side
come along for the ride,
down grey gravel roads,
with the heaviest load,
where trees still have some color,
as the pines & ever-greens brag,  
& envious poison ivy,
climbs the silo
in burning fiery furnace red,
golden amber browns
& deep golden mustards
crunch beneath tires
as wood is drying out
& is readied for the fires,
beyond ****** meadows
& the bog where the Moose hide
that mysterious house,
perched pretty on the hill
weathered perfectly,
seasoned & mature,
looking wise & reminiscent,
of a different era,
and a show like this
would only cost 55 cents...
World War 2
in the Pacific just after it...
you moved to Vermont
and live like a hippie,
smoking our chimney
sitting silently
in classic melodious splendor,
a tune is playing
as wheat is swaying,
a fiddle, out in the middle
of my favorite fields
counting the bounty yield,
admiring the tractors parked
for the year
some think,
your just a farce
though I know the fear,
you're not a a travesty,
in shambles
your multi tone shingles
craving a dose of stain,
your old rocking chair
never earning the critical acclaim
you deserve & desire,
  so lovely in your period costume,
as you sit there,
with ease and comfort,
awaiting patrons,
with your zany characters,
with open doors & cracking windows,
a sadness radiating,
from a broken style,
looking out at everything
glad with a frozen smile,
waving at yesterday's poets,

Getting ready for another show
and time is now, for another snow,
your solid pane's,
cheering others on saying
"way to go"...
and if...

If you ever find this place,
you don't know exactly,
what all the fuss is about,

ignoring the change of weather
pulling out that old red sweater
coming to this wonderful,
magical time
a little homestead theater
generationally strong
and melodramatic
with perfect comic timing
a delight
in the night,
I'll happily play the housemaid
delivering a tray of tea
with honey and cream
answering the doorbell
inviting you in
have a seat
giving you something to eat
and this is my treat,
I'll gladly greet the guests
make them comfortable
at our beautiful little venue
our ***** little nest
as the curtains open and close
for the shows,
730 it comes and goes
in the center of my universe
caught in a time warp,
so much good fun and laughter
inspired moments in a perfect ensemble
cast by my ancestors,

I had no idea it would taste,
so amazing,
this bittersweetness,
and so very delicious
my feet ache...
worn,
tired, relieved at last
I am,
coming home to you,
at last I hear,
you say,
welcome back.

Cherie Nolan© 2016