
This morning I woke up as usual and lay in bed writing my poem, rose to take photos to go with it, then opened my front door so my upstairs neighbors could go through to the porch when they got home from breakfast. When Cathy wandered in, she asked if I realized that I had a friend waiting on the beachfront porch. Who was it, I asked and she said she didn’t know but she was singing.
I went out in my nightgown to see who it was and found a stranger–a singer/musician who had read my blog and come to meet me. By the time I’d thrown clothes on, Fred–a slide guitar player who had been walking by and heard her singing, had come to join her. As the morning progressed, another woman wandered by on the beach. Fred recognized her as a musician who lived on the same island as he in Canada, so he invited her to join us. They ended up ordering breakfast from the cafe next door delivered to my porch. I made coffee and they spent the morning. Then Fred stayed to practice my “Ballad of Poor Molly” which he has set to music. By 3 o’clock, he, too had left and I fell asleep on the couch and passed the rest of the afternoon napping–something I almost never do. As I was waiting for my upstairs neighbors to come down to leave to meet friends for dinner, I wrote the first few stanzas of this poem.
Found Poem
One and two and three and four.
Four little music makers pounding on my door.
One beats a rhythm, one toots a horn––
wild and sweet––sort of forlorn.
One hums a tune behind her teeth––
a sort of descant underneath
the melody on the steel guitar.
The gulls reel in from near and far
to add their screams to the refrain,
then fan their wings, silent again.
Four musicians at my gate.
I wait for their music to abate.
Then I go and let them in
to add my music to the din.
I sing my lyrics fast and slow
first soft then loud, my lyrics go
up and over the drums and horn–
out into the sandy morn.
Over the rocks and out to sea,
setting all our music free.
When the drummer leaves my porch,
she leaves just three to loft the torch.
Too soon the horn, too, dies away,
but the hummer’s here to stay;
and steel guitar swells out to fill
the morning air until until
the morning bursts into full sun
and our melody comes undone.
Soon guitar and singer fade,
their morning share of music made,
and I fold my songs away.
I’ll bring them out some other day.
With music blown away, I wind
only words around my mind.
They weave their spell with me along.
I lose myself in their noisy throng.
Wander aimless, round and round,
in getting lost, this poem is found.
(You can see my “Ballad of Poor Molly” post HERE.)
A very serendipitous meeting! And a fun one. 😀
LikeLike
Reblogged this on lifelessons – a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown and commented:
Vet appointments for the four kittens as well as Annie leave little time for writing a new blog this morning, so I’m reblogging myself! This poem about what happened one day a year and a half ago when I left my gate open should work for today’s prompt of “gate.”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Taking four kitties to the vet reminds me of helping my daughter in CO lots of new Lab puppies to the vet! She is allergic to dogs on top of it.😂
LikeLiked by 1 person
As I am allergic to cats! My old girl, Annie, finally made it out of the bathroom/emergency room of my house for the first time in weeks and jumped up on my bed this morning. I’ve been trying to get her out into the world since she dragged herself home, starving and with a broken leg, after disappearing for two weeks. It’s been a couple of weeks and she’s been eating well and venturing out a tiny bit into the rest of the bathroom, but this was a huge step for her, so I couldn’t make her leave. Menthol inhalers helped a bit but eventually I had to leave. She’s been so wild for so many years that the fact that she now wants me to hold her and pet her constantly is both a blessing and a curse… ha.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My daughter has had pets over the years and we ended up with them at different stages, if they moved into a non pet apartment, etc. or if they got too cranky around little kids. That’s how we ended up with the Yellow nape Amazon!😂
LikeLike
what a lovely morning! And the poem is just perfect-made me want to sing!
LikeLike
Ha. If we were on the beach, you’d probably be on my porch.
LikeLiked by 1 person
How lovely it must have been to waken to a serenade!
LikeLike
What a wonderful story. I love true stories like yours, and such a delightful musical poem to accompany it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Those “jump ups” as I call unplanned fun are usually the most memorable. Your poem is perfect for the occasion.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I agree. Going to take less stuff this year and just get into what is happening.. No art, not doing the art walk. Not taking a lot of stuff for the kitchen. Just kicking back and seeing what happens. Gotta simplify. So hard for me to do.
LikeLike
You’re funny…you are stressing about making your life less stressful. I’m only kidding. When do you leave?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well, there’s a lot of truth in humor, Mary, and you are right! Ha!!! Not until January.
LikeLiked by 1 person