Visitor #6
Peter sleeps through the night while travelers on
the road add ingredients and taste-treasures to the pot. It is to be a wonderful soup. Peter knows dawn is coming and he opens his
eyes. He can feel the light breaking by
the slight stir of the robin’s wings waiting, just beneath the surface and
under the silent snowflakes that had fallen during the night. And he can feel the red rays of warmth from
long ago and former dawns in the center and marrow of his bones.
As the excitement of ‘just before sunrise’ quivers
in the way, a shadow of a man using two sticks to walk with comes down the road
with a well-worn pack on his back. Peter
knows this one as both himself from the past and himself in the future. The man does not seem to see Peter, but
beneath a grand feel of freedom and release, he brings the bread of life. It is in a box that he slowly removes from
his pack and sets by the fire. He says,
“so long,” to Peter without looking into his eyes and strolls off into the mist
of the last moments of night.
Dawn
Now, one can leave an unopened box around a long
time. It may be charmed or charming and
this is enough for some. A box may have
beauty and grace and be soft and pleasant to the touch, which is all the
comfort others need. Haunting stories of
Pandora’s box may inhibit others. But
one thing is for sure – Detroit now has its first box and the soup is
ready. The Dawn is now cracking over
Peter’s shoulder and she is running up the road toward Peter.
Others have formed around fire, both hungry and
curious. But The Dawn’s eyes grow wild
and wide as she makes no hesitation to open the box.
The end
But if you want to know what’s in the box, turn
the page…
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