Once and only once, on a road I
drive with a certain frequency,
and I am surprised that the coincidence
has not repeated but what do I know,
a beautiful woman sat on the steps
of a porch in need of paint, her long
legs almost reaching the sidewalk,
a rendition of Rodin’s The Thinker,
relaxed, the house on a curve close
to the road beside a bar where it’s said
David Allen Coe once played. Her beauty
in sharp contrast to everything around.
Her presence, her beauty,
ordered that place and time,
embedded the moment in me
like a glimpse into eternity.
Maybe I didn’t know how great the contrast
was, her dreams of leaving or staying
in a different way, the grace that emanated
from the moment I passed by and she
caught my eye, she neither young nor
old the way beauty sometimes teeters
in time. Yesterday, I passed that curve,
that house, that bar, that porch empty.
-Byron Hoot
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