Cold
when I first got to theVillage!!
it sat there in theMainLodge!! for a few weeks as bitter cold February wind whipped outside and demoralized everything in it's cold clutches, icy grip.
But it sat safe and sound under theTV set that showed theARK channel,
fuzzy, wavy, Grainy tv channel at 1940's finest during year 2001!!
It was thePiano that no one knew of, that no one knew how to play and that no one cared to get to know, much like their VillagePublicSafetyOfficer it seemed,
it took up space (in theLodge's front room)
where everyone sat and stared mindlessly at the box IT held up, atlas-like with, theWorld literally upon it's mahogany shoulders!!
But I knew.
Because I had been trained in theBasics of finding theKeys and finding theGroups of keys and chords that sounded best that brought out theBEST sound from it's maple and ash framework, from it's Cedar planks, from thePlastic / sans Ivory!! keys and it was the Spirit of it's innerBeauty that really mattered most anyway, right!?
I knew,
and so did a couple others in theVillage!!
it sat that there a few months until Winter was over and Spring was just around theCorner and then, theWorkMen!!, hired for a few hours labor,
paid by theBottle!! and tossed a pack of cigarettes for moving theEclectic piece of wood-did move it out of theLodge!! and 30' away against the framework of smaller sheds and buildings that guarded theLodge!!
that did hide theDoings of theVillage!! in their shadows-theVarious CookPots for Village Feasts and Teas!!,
theCookWare for thePotLatches that in their washed and sanitized,
empty, tomblike hubris, did show forth,
with empty guts, their Love and Giving,
their warmth and compassion at 150 degrees for several hours and then,
when deemed worthy to give their "love", were ushered, escorted via Village!!Nebe (inebriate!!) via pickUP truck to thePotLatch,
where I theVPSO of theMonth, was given a mooseHoof, a dollap of potatos, a hunk of dried bread and a pound of sweet jam upon my plate
when theWell-Endowed, well swelled, Ass-cracked VillageChick!!'s slid by on hands and knees and spooned out their appreciation with love and care,
nobody knew theVoicings of theBox that they cast aside that winter,
only theOld Crone that faithfully sat outside her house for a few hours EVERY day even during minus zero degree weather,
when she'd see her VPSO gingerly trudge over to theCollection of Sheds and then hear theScales and Chords upon theNorth winds gather and then
scatter on theEdge of theShadows of the raven wings as they flew overhead,
fragile as they scraped theGround beneath nimble feathers,
No one felt or heard theShadows upon the ground, no one felt or heard theMusic upon the air at certain times of the week all those short years in theVillage!! either.
Just me and theOldCrone upon her rocking chair,
just us and sober villageChick!! or two bearing a newBorn babe,
just us and a newly decomposing VillageSledDog bleeding out theEars from a .22 after it's owners didn't want it anymore, and called me, theSam!! to erase "It", theDog from their lives,
Just us, theSoberOnes, theListeningOnes, did hear theFuneralDirge and theFugues of pain, just us, and theCold North Winds.
no one else.
lovs,
theSam!!
Minto VPSO, Minto AK,
Feb 2001 - Oct 2003, Badge # 51
it sat there in theMainLodge!! for a few weeks as bitter cold February wind whipped outside and demoralized everything in it's cold clutches, icy grip.
But it sat safe and sound under theTV set that showed theARK channel,
fuzzy, wavy, Grainy tv channel at 1940's finest during year 2001!!
It was thePiano that no one knew of, that no one knew how to play and that no one cared to get to know, much like their VillagePublicSafetyOfficer it seemed,
it took up space (in theLodge's front room)
where everyone sat and stared mindlessly at the box IT held up, atlas-like with, theWorld literally upon it's mahogany shoulders!!
But I knew.
Because I had been trained in theBasics of finding theKeys and finding theGroups of keys and chords that sounded best that brought out theBEST sound from it's maple and ash framework, from it's Cedar planks, from thePlastic / sans Ivory!! keys and it was the Spirit of it's innerBeauty that really mattered most anyway, right!?
I knew,
and so did a couple others in theVillage!!
it sat that there a few months until Winter was over and Spring was just around theCorner and then, theWorkMen!!, hired for a few hours labor,
paid by theBottle!! and tossed a pack of cigarettes for moving theEclectic piece of wood-did move it out of theLodge!! and 30' away against the framework of smaller sheds and buildings that guarded theLodge!!
that did hide theDoings of theVillage!! in their shadows-theVarious CookPots for Village Feasts and Teas!!,
theCookWare for thePotLatches that in their washed and sanitized,
empty, tomblike hubris, did show forth,
with empty guts, their Love and Giving,
their warmth and compassion at 150 degrees for several hours and then,
when deemed worthy to give their "love", were ushered, escorted via Village!!Nebe (inebriate!!) via pickUP truck to thePotLatch,
where I theVPSO of theMonth, was given a mooseHoof, a dollap of potatos, a hunk of dried bread and a pound of sweet jam upon my plate
when theWell-Endowed, well swelled, Ass-cracked VillageChick!!'s slid by on hands and knees and spooned out their appreciation with love and care,
nobody knew theVoicings of theBox that they cast aside that winter,
only theOld Crone that faithfully sat outside her house for a few hours EVERY day even during minus zero degree weather,
when she'd see her VPSO gingerly trudge over to theCollection of Sheds and then hear theScales and Chords upon theNorth winds gather and then
scatter on theEdge of theShadows of the raven wings as they flew overhead,
fragile as they scraped theGround beneath nimble feathers,
No one felt or heard theShadows upon the ground, no one felt or heard theMusic upon the air at certain times of the week all those short years in theVillage!! either.
Just me and theOldCrone upon her rocking chair,
just us and sober villageChick!! or two bearing a newBorn babe,
just us and a newly decomposing VillageSledDog bleeding out theEars from a .22 after it's owners didn't want it anymore, and called me, theSam!! to erase "It", theDog from their lives,
Just us, theSoberOnes, theListeningOnes, did hear theFuneralDirge and theFugues of pain, just us, and theCold North Winds.
no one else.
lovs,
theSam!!
Minto VPSO, Minto AK,
Feb 2001 - Oct 2003, Badge # 51
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