Tag: dried

(part X)

When we chopped the last block ceremoniously
I told Frank that I would be leaving the next day
His face immediately showed me
How much he had also grown fond of my presence
But we both knew that any longer
And my presence in the little house
Would be too well felt
And each day departing would be harder and harder
Though I suspect he knew less of this then I
For he wasn’t much of a wandering man
As I had become in these days.
He initially put up a fight
Talking about the oncoming Winter
And for me to be reasonable
I smiled through it all, and remained firm.

Amy made me a lunch pack
With enough dried meat and fruits
To last me a few weeks
I was eternally grateful to these kind folks
Embracing me, a wandering stranger,
Who came upon their doorstep one clear day
With open hands and a smile.

When I was at the edge of the forest
I stopped and turned back and waved
And they all waved back at me
Amy, Frank, Clarinet, and one of the dogs even barked
I had left Clarinet an old photograph
I carried in my breast-pocket
For her to remember me by
I gave in to my desire to turn around and wave
As I could feel them all hoping and wishing
And watching for me to do so,
A friendly and nurturing gesture I could admit
I walked most of the morning silently
East.

part XII