Tuesday, November 22, 2011

A Summer Memory



The Bluegrass Festival

A weekend village has sprung up
Gulf Streams, Dutchman, Fleetwoods, tents
a bass drives out a beat
while the dobro weaves a path through it

guitars fill in the edges
as the fiddle springs to life,
and the banjo dances in and out
vocals weeping in the distance

the professor, pharmacist, salesman, and lawyer
this weekend are banjo, guitar, bass, and mandolin
the development director of a small charity
               is dancing Denise

teenagers appear at the edges of the compound
               instruments nervously in hand
only their timidity standing in their way

where else can you wander into somebody’s home
               quietly pull up an empty chair
and become part of their evening
               whether as an appreciative observer or participant
and leave later, never having exchanged names
               drunk off intimacy and community


This poem contributed to dVersePoets Open Link Night.

4 comments:

Brian Miller said...

nice...i have walked into these before...i am drawn to music and you capture well the crowd and how the titles are stripped away on the stage...now they are musicians and engaging...music has a way of bringing us together doesnt it...

Scarlet said...

a nice music festival or gathering to come and listen to, and become part of the evening ~ i like this ~

Shashidhar Sharma said...

Its lovely... and could feel the music within... Thanks for sharing...

Shashi
ॐ नमः शिवाय
Om Namah Shivaya
http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2011/11/whispers-sighs.html
At Twitter @VerseEveryDay

ayala said...

Nice piece....
and leave later, never having exchanged names
drunk off intimacy and community....
that is an amazing thing!