Sunday, March 28, 2010

little church in the vale

My Darling,

I have found our place. All ours. There’s a single trail near Old Post Road, right amongst where the fragrant pine needles thickly cover the gravel road that lazily winds upwards along the North slope, off the beaten trail not taken, appropriate here on Frost’s birthday. I stepped carefully over polished rocks in a silent creek, losing my balance once, my left foot dipping ankle deep in cold water and my backpack splashing before me. Everything was soaked - all my poems. That is why I’m writing this letter on napkins here at a little café called The Magpie Junction Diner, under the churlish eyes of a waitress in a dirty apron. It’s really a charming place though, lovely blue and white checkered oil cloth covered round tables, and the coffee ain’t bad. The French Toast came hot enough to melt butter. Across the quiet street is The Black Buggy General Store. I’ll check there for thick dry socks soon. And to mail all these napkins. I imagine the envelope will look like a small pillow to you. You can pluck the feathers but keep them away from moisture.

Emerging on a plateau beyond the creek just past the North slope the road fell sharply, an old faint sign bolt upright says Graveyard Road, surrounded on both sides by yellow flowers.(I’ve asked for more napkins. She looks less like an angry schoolmarm, maybe I’ve won her over - she's reading napkin number 4 and making corrections). You’ll see when you come, Darling, I have no idea what type of flower. That is, if you can manage crossing the creek without being swept away. In the cold sunshine, beyond a clearing of pines, was the remains of an old church, roof caved in, mildewed planks, splintered floors, low stone wall lined driveway intact. The light coming in from above seemed to carry a voice of many past voices from 100 years of prayers. One weeping willow stands in majestic solitude among the pines. It can easily be saved when I rebuild. When WE rebuild, yes. From a distance the willow looks like fireworks falling from the sky, and I can imagine frosted in the dead of winter it would resemble a frozen fountain bubbling over. But somehow, Darling, with you here I know Winter will never arrive.

Your servant,
Phil

p.s. pack a hammer and hiking boots.

18 Comments:

Blogger joanny said...

Phil:

She would be a fool to turn you down-- You paint a beautiful picture with your words, and understand the endless dance of lovers with eternal spring time in their hearts.

Joanny

3/29/2010 1:12 AM  
Blogger SUN DANCE HILL said...

Such visual impressions captured in verse, just lovely!

3/29/2010 11:36 AM  
Blogger christine said...

Such a laugh I had tears of laughter when I read that PS... you cruel man to sway her with sweet words.. 'With you here, winter will never come.' and then to treat her like a navvy! LOL

Christine

3/29/2010 2:43 PM  
Blogger willow said...

I love when the French Toast is hot enough to melt the butter. Where you following me on my walk today?

3/29/2010 2:52 PM  
Blogger Eric S. said...

MMM, so very visual, sensory. I do so love a descriptive piece. Amazing how good writing can take the reader to a whole new realm of experience.

Well done

3/29/2010 9:50 PM  
Blogger Lisa said...

ahhhhh, to have someone with those feelings for me...oh, wait, I might eat them. Love is so pretty in the words on paper. ;-)

3/29/2010 10:02 PM  
Blogger Catalyst said...

Phil, your word sense is immaculate!

3/30/2010 12:04 AM  
Blogger Enchanted Oak said...

Masterful love letter.

3/30/2010 9:29 AM  
Anonymous Jennifer said...

Beautiful Phil. You really can paint pictures with words. And this one is of my kind of place. Really loved this:

"The light coming in from above seemed to carry a voice of many past voices from 100 years of prayers."

I would so get that.

3/30/2010 11:56 AM  
Blogger spacedlaw said...

Lovely, funny and yet a little poignant.

3/30/2010 3:13 PM  
Blogger The Bug said...

I want to see the place - love the visual of the narrator scribbling on napkins...

3/30/2010 4:34 PM  
Blogger Vicki Lane said...

Wonderfully told! And what a dream of a place!

3/30/2010 5:24 PM  
Blogger Peter Goulding said...

Ah very good! I love the waitress correcting napkin number 4.
The way you write, I'd follow you there meself...

3/30/2010 5:38 PM  
Blogger steviewren said...

I bet she'll buy it all...

3/30/2010 5:49 PM  
Anonymous Angie Muresan said...

Oh! I am sure you have melted her heart with such words, and she is right now packing her things and securing a train ticket to be with you.

3/30/2010 6:12 PM  
Blogger Lyn said...

A good place to stop..The Magpie Junction Diner..and write a letter of true love..Think I'll stop by too..

3/30/2010 8:31 PM  
Blogger Brian Miller said...

you have conjured up quite the senses with this one...she would be crazy to turn you down. so nicely done!

3/31/2010 6:57 PM  
Blogger Blog Princess G said...

My friend, the more you write, the more you're read. :)

4/19/2010 9:50 PM  

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