Wooden Box
Wooden Box
A wooden box
with a long slender neck
whispered from a hollow center,
“Will you play me?”
Looking left then right,
in front and then behind—
No one was there but me.
Did I HEAR the wooden box
whisper, “Come play me?”
There it was again…”play me!”
Gently, I grasped the neck
mindful of the six slippery
strings longing to be caressed.
“Play me.”
Sitting on an old tree stump,
I plucked what seemed a sturdy
vine~ “TWANG.”
The vibrations wove around tree branches,
cascaded through hanging leaves.
The sky seemed to reach down
and the sun held what became
a stage.
A pick in hand—
then another “TWANG”
—fingers danced between frets.
Birds chimed in
while insects made music
with their wings.
When the performance ended,
I picked up the wooden box.
Rising from the stump and
walking beneath the stars,
I believe I heard the stump speak…
“I live on~~~thanks for playing me.”
Love this Sandy!!!!