at the door and knock

[joel]

An unpredictable percussion: you
and all the careless ways you never think
about the beat that has to improvise
as rhythm plies the quiet neighborhood
with your arrival— and I wait for it,
I wait for you to come, I wait and pray.
And better introverts might sell their stock
in company, but when your knuckles knock
for me to welcome you, I’ll gladly pay
to share in that investment. When you hit
my door— or bang— or buzz— the jazz is good
and, though I can’t predict it, I am wise
to something beautiful and never shrink
away to leave your call unanswered: no.

[hester_prynne]

This is fantastic...a great read while listening to jazz and sippin coffee on Sunday Morn. Thanks Joel, so much
H