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