Time Traveler

on my wall is a calendar.
this month it is an october scene
with a new england village tucked in a
brilliant gold, crimson, and russet autumn
interspersed with white pines and a white church
among tranquil houses.
the village is silent from this distance,
but it is not a far walk.

when we descend the hills
these kind folk tell about the joys and struggles
of their lives.
close up
i have been coveting the dodge pickup truck
parked off the corner from the bookstore.
i can hear mrs. emmons in the red house with the tin roof
tell me of her husband’s hard drinking habits.
her neighbor, mrs. parker,  in the white 18th century home
will complain that her son eloped with the minister’s daughter,
and the couple that live on bennington steet
are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary on the day
i turn the calendar to november 1st.
unfortunately, i will miss the occasion.
the people of the village do not seem to take notice of me,
I am just another traveler passing through
like so many others.
the woodcutters are laying up their store for winter,
carefree children are preparing for halloween,
the teenage boys and girls are busy with homecoming plans,
and dads and sons and daughters are carving jack o’ lanterns.
on porches on this clear sunlit day.
i pass my days at the top of the hill
reading, grading papers,
and gazing as far in the distance
as my angle permits.

i have spent nearly a month here
and must leave on the 31st of october.
i must turn another page in my life.
in november i am heading to cape hatteras
and fish for a month
with the man near the lighthouse
who has cast his line into the surf.


ms/’10