A demure tap-tap-Tap came from behind
the windward side of the cabin screen door
The knock-Knock had a feral rhythm
but not as fast as a woodpecker’s tapping rap
... more like a hesitant slender hollow fist
full of curiosity and an empty sugar bowl
held anxiously in the other pragmatic palm
Not a glass half full or half empty ―
just something practical to carry sugar in
sans reason or not for any to be borrowed;
it's such a simple thing to ask out loud
Sweetness betides a currency of hope
even strangers alone together can't hide
Boldly beckoning with the first handmade tolling
shed upon that old weathered gray door
since stepping back through time
a near month of silence ago
Knotted thoughts only untangled on blank paper
guitar strings disburden the heart like a song lay bare
An unspoken voice can sound as if its a rusty throat;
thickening tongue grows a sixth toe
to trip and stumble on the rising words
At the edge of untamed solitude,
no one often see’s a smile ― and patience is a fallow virtue
But the timid ones don’t survive out here in the bush,
where everyone is from somewhere,
so I knew the slender feminine stature beheld
a strong hearted woman disguised as a wild flower
in the last frontier
There was hot water on the wood stove for tea,
pound cake, fragrant strawberries in a bowl
and an old welcome sign leftover from another time
well hung outside the door; hand washed clean cups
hanging by a new red and white checkered towel,
from a day I felt in touch with a man’s salutary side…
She looked at me and said she knew what I was feeling
and
I said I understood what I saw in her eyes
She asked what was inside the beat-up guitar case
I laughed so nervously ― and modestly uttered:
"just a guitar"
She could have talked down to me as I winced,
shyly embarrassed scarlet red inside,
but instead said coquettishly,…
"I heard you play the other day
from down the trail by the river;
whatever’s in there sounds nice" …
I sighed audibly like an irrepressible knee ****
so relieved she was the gentle kind
"That was an unwritten song I found unsung
at half-moon lake one night;
so I gathered it up like the sound of silence ―
hidden in that old Dreadnought Martin inside the case
with the other fading fantasies and the rest
of a long unfinished lifeline unspent ―
back then to now ― seems like I wasn't even here
harlon rivers ... May 26th, 2018
travelogue: 5 of some more