Unless otherwise attributed, all content, text or image, on this site is © TaunaLen 2005-2011.
All rights reserved. Republication or redistribution is prohibited without prior written consent.

Monday, September 3, 2007

Outside of the Pages

In the lazy heat of a summer evening, I love to grab my book and head for the coffee shop. An escape from the rush of life is just what I need tonight. I’ll grab a cup of caffeine, and lose myself in the pages. But, sometimes the story isn’t inside the book…

The warm air blows lazily across the patio as the notes of his guitar begin to line up and take their places. Friends puddle around him like rain from a summer shower. With coffee in their hands and smiles on their faces, they cluster, whisper and wave hello. A current of expectation wafts through the air, wrapped in the scent of citronella. After a moment of silence, he offers a welcome, and music slowly begins to flow from the strings of his guitar. Smiling, he starts to sing -- his gift suddenly obvious and amazing.

And I watch. He’s very generous with this small crowd. Welcoming each listener into his magical, musical world, his voice is an invitation. The lyrics are simple, real, and profound. His eyes close, and he moves with the grace of the music. His eyes open again, filled with the enchantment of it all.

Still I watch. Heads are nodding, toes are tapping. The music has a strange affect on people. They move, or sit quietly. They smile, or gaze solemnly into space. It penetrates slowly, and in many of us something shifts.

A young mother steps outside of the coffee shop, a cup in her hand, and a little girl by her side. She hesitates. Bowing her head, she listens, swaying slightly with the haunting melody. A slight frown traces its path across her forehead. This song, these lyrics touch her – a fleeting connection. This is the language of music. Sitting down, she surrenders to its power. The little girl claps her hands, grinning at a stranger. Their evening plans, whatever they might have been, are altered by the urge to stop and listen.

As the music weaves its way into this moment of our lives, we are, each of us, a little changed; grateful for this talented, young man with the guitar and the gift that he shares -- an invitation to sit for a while, in the warm summer night and listen to his story.


Donetta said...

I can hear his music in my mind. Sway the sound as it embraces each soul. Even my own as I hear his music through your well spoken word.

micpro said...

Tauna - Your lyrical words capture the spirit of the moments you write of. Thank you for sharing one last priceless drop of summer.

There was an error in this gadget

Friends who Follow

FeedBurner FeedCount

Friends I Follow

  • Deadlock Victim - Rerun the transaction. Another process claims the same resources. You have been chosen as the deadlock victim. It’s nothing personal. The optimized queuing ...
    20 hours ago
  • I See - I see a woman Desperate to keep faith to an Absent man of war. I see a lone man Rejected by a woman Long lost long ago. I see a couple Sitting in a dark co...
    1 day ago
  • Together by Ree - As a mom’s children get older and bigger and more mature and grown up and start leaving the nest, she starts to live for the times when everyone is togethe...
    1 week ago
  • The Big Boo Cast, Episode 74 - Well, we start off recounting some difficult times we’ve experienced in excruciatingly hot conditions. Our passion about this topic will surprise approxima...
    3 weeks ago
  • Every Flower Is The Rose - Lovers jump into bed without thinking. That's the only way it can be done. A cup that was spilling over still wanted more. We all talk to ourselves. Thos...
    3 years ago
  • The Search - Through the darkness wandering, silent footfalls upon the ground, guided by lantern glow and the ambient light of a thousand-thousand stars piercing t...
    3 years ago
  • Moving - With writing novels, editing for friends, and writing blogs, I am moving my new poetry posts to: NEW SCRIBBLES
    4 years ago
  • What Are Blurbs? Do I Need Them For My Book? - Wow! So now that my debut full-length collection of poetry, *Solving the World's Problems*, has found a home with Press 53, I imagine more than a few of my...
    4 years ago
  • Why Write? - Writing and the possibility of connection in an isolated, isolating world. Writing as part of what keeps us human, and alive.
    4 years ago
  • Apu, the chai walla... - This poem is for Apu, this ever-smiling 10-year old kid who sells chai on Platform no. 3 and 4 of the Pune railway station. “Chai Garam ! Chai Garam!” ...
    6 years ago
  • City Poem - I walk a city Where my steps leave no trace, A city whose nights are birds Picking on the breadcrumbs of memory. I walk by trees anointed With smells heirs ...
    6 years ago
  • Happy Birthday - Independence Day 2008 Berkeley, Ca Forgive my dark mood and my languid determination. The process is skipping All fingers point To a funnel with Pompous exe...
    7 years ago
Unless otherwise attributed, all content, text or image, on this site is © TaunaLen 2005-2009.
All rights reserved. Republication or redistribution is prohibited without prior written consent.

  © Blogger templates Romantico by Ourblogtemplates.com 2008

Back to TOP