Northeast of Knoxville

 

       

The morning was in full bloom by the time I retrieved myself from the comforts of our warm feather bed; 

into the great room I stumbled carefully and chanced upon a package with a green ribbon tied tightly; 

the ribbon was not as curious an event as were the contents inside -- a leather bound book of Frost's Collection

was glimpsed at solidly and when extracted felt good upon my hands;

it was no Sandburg, Dickens or Poe but of late was not one that had been eyed by me; 

I sat about reading it of course and soon discovered it was prose poetry of a sort, 

the likes of which I had never seen until this chance encounter brought us together. 

The warmth of the Valley sun brought me back to a state of sleep perchance for me to dream, 

I know not why but upon being startled I looked straight at a boy of ten walking 

with one of Sandberg's goats on a leash made of unstained hemp; 

the leash bothered me not as much as did the age of its handler and because of its peculiarities,

when the boy had passed, it was as if some unseen voiced compelled me to follow.



No more than twenty paces behind was I marking my time as the boy

and the goat strolled down the dirt path without the benefit of any signs;

when the sun was full upon my head, the boy stood quietly with the goat

by his side at a fork with two gnomes guarding like Roman sentinels protecting Golgotha;


I stopped and hid behind a Tennessee Pine and apparently just in the nick of time.


The boy still holding onto the was the first to speak, "which way should I go," he asked?


"That quite depends on which way you want to go," he replied laughing.


"Never mind," said the boy, "I'll ask your friend."


"He always lies," the first gnome offered quite innocently.


"And I suppose you always tell the truth," he asked sarcastically?


"Exactly so… but you know it could just be the opposite, still,

you have but one question to ascertain which one since you have been so contrite."



As I watched the confrontation from behind the concealment of my tree, 

I could only speculate as to what that boy might be thinking;

it was no paradox for him and gently spoke as turned away,

"I knew this riddle once before but will ask it not because I cannot remember," 

and with that the boy turned with his goat, "I shall return to whence I came."



As the young boy and goat passed by my location behind the Tennessee

Pine, he offered up a curious look and nodded as if to suggest that I

accompany the pair and while I reluctantly agreed by following the

pace that was much faster than my own and soon they had disappeared from my view.



It was purely by chance that I happened upon him once again, sitting

under an apple tree learning against its trunk with the Toggenburg’s head in his lap and a most curious look on his face.


I stood in silence for longer than I could imagined and ‘twas like a bolt

of something other than lightening, it came to out-of-the-blue…

the young boy was waiting for an apple to drop…



From inside the house, the smell of cooking onions and garlic broke

me free from my reverie and a lapse of memory reminded me of

Frost's Collection now laying in my lap like my Siamese cat always used to do.