Vox Populi
A curated webspace for Poetry, Politics, and Nature with over 10,000 daily visitors and over 9,000 archived posts.
Byron Hoot: Dance Instructor & There Are Reasons
Dance Instructor
The black bear was teaching me his dance:
standing on his hind legs,
right foot right, then left, left,
forewards, backwards,
shoulders hunched,
forelegs like arms extended,
claws showing, a huff,
a show of teeth all kept
in rhythm by the drummer
and the bear said to me,
“Now you. Just remember
when you were a bear.”
He started to hum,
then that bearish grin appeared.
~~~
There Are Reasons
Occasionally I get Fig Newtons.
Not too often because they take
me back to what is only a memory
of when the dead in my life were
alive, when I was a boy,
when Mrs. Heinz – who didn’t
have two dimes to rub together –
would have a box when Dad
and Mom would make a call,
park the car on this side of the wooden
bridge that crossed the stream
to get to her house and life.
I should relish such memories,
the near resurrection of memory,
the dead nearly alive. I have
to say the longing for the dead
to rise again fills me with deep
sorrow, that melancholy joy
for what has been not to be again
and say sometimes when I take
a bite in a voice barely audible to me,
“This is the day the Lord has made.
Rejoice.” And can barely swallow.
~~~~
Born and raised in Morgantown, West Virginia, Byron Hoot now lives alone in the wilds of Pennsylvania. His books include Setting Moon Morning Twilight: Predawn Meditations.
Copyright 2024 Byron Hoot
Discover more from Vox Populi
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Loved these. Hoping to get back to the woods before I croak. Remembering 4th grade teacher, Mrs Hinds, who had rock and shell club ( memorize their names, earn the rock or shell). She had the first color tv I knew of. I worked hard to earn the honor of going to watch Peter Pan at her house (in color).
LikeLike
These poems have a sense of authentic tenderness and wonder that wins me over. Thanks, Byron.
Charles ________________________________
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks, Charles. Byron is the kind of poet I thought I would be when I was first writing: someone who lives in nature and writes meditative reveries. Like you, I admire Byron’s authenticity.
>
LikeLiked by 1 person
The “near resurrection of memory” — isn’t that what so often makes the best poems? These two poems certainly seem to prove this — such perfect moments of the past suddenly alive again. “Remember when you were a bear”….
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thanks, Laure-Anne. Byron is a solipsistic mystic. Living in the woods with the animals, fishing on the lake for sustenance, writing poems as a form of prayer… He takes us back to the roots of poetry, a meditation based in love.
>
LikeLiked by 4 people
That.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Mrs. Heinz! OMG. I will rejoice on this day. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Yes, I will rejoice on this day. Thank you, Beth.
>
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Bryan, for bringing the dancing bear and Mrs. Heinz alive for me. With them arose my Great Aunt Emma, who had always a pretzel or apple to share in her old stone house with no central heating or bathroom plumbing, always one of those church calendars hanging by a string, and the door to the parlor closed unless it was Sunday when the Ben Franklin wood be fed with coal so we could sit for a proper visit.
LikeLiked by 3 people
What a great tableau, Luray. Thank you!
>
LikeLiked by 1 person