“The earth has music for those who listen” –George Santayana
Outer Banks, NC 2007
The morning sun begins peeking through the curtains as they blow in from the summer, ocean breeze far too early. Not ready for the long day, we snuggle under the covers listening to the love song the gulls begin to call across the warming white sands of the island. From outside our window we can hear the gentle kiss of the sea-foam on the beach below and we tangle ourselves in the sheets and ’round one another. As the tide comes in, the waves making love to the shore crescendo to match our own.
Dawn sings a love song listen for her by the sea a sweet melody
I sang away my life’s blues on this old guitar from New Orleans to Montreal. When I came to the crossroads, I got down on one knee and praised the Lord for a safe journey. I had retraced, in reverse, the path of my ancestors. Some of the earliest French settlers in New France, fur traders that made their way along the Great Lakes and down the Mississippi from the Big Easy to La Métropole, stopping at Memphis, St Louis, and more along the way. What it must have been like, settling a new land, starting a new life. Now I know, know the land they walked, the waters they traversed, as my life nears its end.
Life is a journey You’re fondest memories made Down at the crossroads
Tam took over care for her ailing grandmother, Xuan, in the evenings after class at the university when her mother went to work at the hospital’s night shift. After dinner her grandmother often requested she play the harp-like instrument from the old country for her as she drifted off to a medicated sleep. Always demanding Tam sing to her in English, Xuan would start in on a long rant about how much she had sacrificed coming to this country to give them good future if Tam started in their native tongue.
Roses love sunshine, violets love dew Angels in heaven, know I love you Angels in heaven, know I love you.
Xuan never spoke of the old country, only of the opportunities they had before them here in this country. Tam wondered what her grandmother would say if she told her that she would be studying abroad in the old country next semester. Would she be proud? Or would she be angry? Tam and her mother had agreed it was best for Xuan’s health that she not know, for now, but Tam did not know how her mother could care for her grandmother all by herself and support them at the same time. Maybe she shouldn’t go…
It had been a long time since a man had entered Eira’s lair. There once was a time when she had her pick of soldiers, hunters, and axe men. Every night a different delicacy to satisfy her appetite, sometimes more than one. She would whisper temptations through the wind, leading them deeper into the forest. Only to realize too late they were trapped like the animals they may have been hunting.She would slate her lust, her prey often a willing participant, for she was a winter beauty. But once her desire was fulfilled, the nymph devoured her mate and set about finding another to satisfy her.
Now all men wanted to do were play with gadgets and gizmos in the civilized cities. Eira had to wait patiently for a man who decided to reconnect with nature. They were never built to her standards — too scrawny, too pale, too whinny — but they would do to sustain her lust. Often carrying packs and wearing ridiculous patches over their ears, she would have to drum up a gust to send their covering flying before she could use her song to lead them deep into her trap. Her minions would take care of the trappings while she attempted to charm these less willing hikers.