night song in first key

Night Song in First Key

In summer the whippoorwills lived outside my window.
They sang to the reverb of crickets.
They sounded so certain in that endless litany,
but sorry, somehow, by the sound of things.
I was too young to be troubled long
with melancholy.
My nostrils new enough, to pull in the honeysuckle,
and the cut grass, freshly widowed from the earth.
I was staring into the stars for my future,
dreaming of the bus station in town, where the fumes
hissed daily, and the people stared from tall windows.
I loved the red suitcases, and the yellow ones.
I loved the gypsy girls and the old ladies with lunches,
drifting through the station in bold whispers of color.
Boys loitered there with accents.
Babies were hoisted, red cheeked and sleeping,
up the bus steps, as the mothers held,
a hand to one cheek, perhaps to hide
the dark cracks in the badly paved streets.
At the bus station, someone was always selling
something quick and convenient, in low voices.
The greyhound painted on a steel glare side,
faced forward to burst in air brakes and speed.
The driver leaned out for his final call,
as his right hand twirled hard on the steering wheel.
I lay sleeping in easy abandon,
the whippoorwill lullabye and road hum blending.

Reviews

[deeps]

This is so wonderful, So beuatiful.
I like this one alot. I got a wonderful imagery with this.
Excellent write.

[Bette]

beautifully written and great flow, well done!

[cest la vie]

First, I agree with Ed and Wk..100%

Your gift to take something and weave it into a wonderful read is amazing. I have such a clear vision in my head of this whole scene at the depot. Scents, sounds, thoughts all come alive. And the ease of the girl,
"I lay sleeping in easy abandon,
the whippoorwill lullabye and road hum blending."

Beautiful, Phibby!!

[W.k.kortas]

The good side of nostalgia--all the vividness of youth itself, without the patina of meanings and morals grafted on by the grumpy morality of aging and the tricks of memory. Lovely and wistful.

[James Paulin]

Perfection speaks for itself in this captivating piece. Just right in every aspect.

[Ed Hart]

memory lullaby...just precious...you are so easy to be jealous of...