I greet you stranger
Do you loaf along as I do?
Do you know your whereabouts?
Scrub trees surround us
It is easy to lose your way.
Do you thirst as much as I?
Why not follow me. I invite you
I know these parts well
We are blessed with this Isle of sweet brooks
Creeks that run clean, cold
And flow swiftly free down to the bay
Come, let’s walk together
In conversation and good will
To wet our tongues
At Sampawams Creek
Not far from here
Where we can rest and slake our thirst
May I tell you a story
To bide our time as we walk?
My mother told me that when she was a young girl
An Indian squaw knocked on her cottage door
Asking if we needed any chairs caned.
Mother invited her in, greatly admiring
The this young girls beauty
Her shiny black hair, her skin, her composure, and grace
The girl carried a basket of rushes
Mother said that no chairs needed repair
Mother wanted her to stay a while
She offered her milk and bread with jam
Mother was transfixed with her, enjoying her company
Though she spoke not a word
After a long time, the girl quietly rose to leave
With a nod of her head and brief eye contact
She left, never to be seen again
Mother waited and hoped for her return
She spoke of this occasion for many years.
first published on line at eratio24.com
tom stock, 2017