-Waiting on the Troubadour-

I've chosen the audaciousness

Of personal preference

Over those whose performances

Are more skilled than my own;

Urlicht over Des Knaben Wunderhorn;

The tenacity of Rockland over fractured Airplane Dreams.

But two weeks in––

And still, nothing.

Then on the first day of the third week,

The day God seemed to like above the others

Late afternoon

Under the mailbox

In the dirt

Nearing mud

Behind the dense

Neck-high honeysuckle

On the south-

Side of the house where

The driveway winds to the road,

A small package sealed

But carelessly delivered,

Dropped down

Through a night of light

But steady rain

Is retrieved—

Is addressed to me

Under shrink-wrap cover

Shielded from the elements,
Is carried inside, is opened,
Is engaged and begins

As drenched as the water

With "Duquesne Whistle."