Another Day. . .

The first installment of the fruit of the vine is safely housed at the foot of the staircase while the coffee perks just loudly enough to know that the power is on. There's no no haze skimming the surface of the lake this morning and it's just early enough that the sun is still below the eastern horizon.  Just as most mornings, a breeze is tickling the early autumn foliage enough to prompt a gentle dance, although this morning while the water surface is no mirror, yesterday's baby whitecaps are not evident today and a hawk is surveying the distant shore lazily yet purposefully.

Soon, after light morning nourishment, we will take to the road for a non-vineyard trip to the north where an unusual, yet growing organization was born.  While it is a fascinating cult, as are all other organized religions, that began in the early 19th century and (by their own account) numbers over 6 million members in the United States.

One unique element of the group is a special garment which takes the place of regular underwear. Members begin wearing it during their first visit to their temple, where they receive individual instruction on how the garment should be worn and cared for, and at which time, they undergo a special ceremony.

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The stars lay. . .

. . . in a blanket above. A gentle breeze blowing in from the sea. The last light flickers from one lonely candle. Never before was a night half as perfect for you and me. But there was a party last night. Yes there was a party next door cause there's a boy sleeping on the back porch.

You would have noticed a pin drop that evening. The peace and calm when romance fills the air. Ambience oozing from Coltrane and Hartman. And barely twenty feet away we'd no clue what was happening there. But there was a party last night. Yes there was a party next door cause there's a boy sleeping on the back porch.

No blaring rock and roll; no bottles on the walk. No screaming, shouting and no fights. Nobody called the law; no sirens in the night. Just one young man stretched out on a chaise sleeping it off.

Occasions such as this should be savored. The combination of circumstance rare. You may just be the true love that I've searched for. I think though, that the folks in the house that's next door just don't care. But there was a party last night. Yes there was a party next door cause there's a boy sleeping on the back porch.

BACK PORCH (from "Critic's Choice")
©2005 Raymond M. Jozwiak


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