Fervent fans trickle onto the grassy grounds
after unloading lawn chairs and coolers from the trunk.
Joe the proprietor is eyeing the crowd –
fingers crossed for a turnout and a profit.
Cloaking the perimeter, a cacophony of tie-dyed sheeting
stretched ’round and fused with that throbbin’ Bo Didley beat…
guarantees passers-by will be obliged to pay the fee
if they want to see the sounds that tease.
Hour after hour, band after band takes a turn on-stage,
Groaning, twanging, belting, tinkling, rasping and cranking out
Nothin’ but the blues.
As the set finishes, human ants shoulder
massive loads of gear to and fro, through the throng –
Guitars, amps, basses, washboards, saxes and keyboards.
Transitions and the sound checks mess with the programming,
But it’s all cool…
Ok and now it’s The Chainsaw Blues.
I am telling you the truth:
The guy has a saw revved-up AND
is playing it!
SPF70 residue, caked with sprinkles of dust,
now decorates my feet.
We are grateful as the welcome breeze sweeps through
the hurts-your-eyes-brilliant-blue skies
and cools our sun kissed skins.
Sweat and sunscreen running down my arm
have smudged my “I ♥ the Blues!” entry stamp.
I’ve drained the vessel holding my ice-tea.
No matter, it’s time to enjoy an ice-cold beer.
And the turnout: twirling, ruffle-skirted little ones,
Climbing, running urchins, smoking teens, pencil-thin pubescent girls,
Pot-bellied, bopping grey hip-cats, young Moms and babes,
And even Grannies. Every flavor of age, size, hue, and OH… the attire!
Dancin’, tappin’, clappin’, rockin’ and keepin’ the blues alive.
Inspired while attending the 2nd Annual Lummi Island Blues Festival,
And using the 12 words in Sunday Whirl #19.