As the southern
evening bells
rang,
I banged
the skin drum
and sang:
“Yah, yah hey yah hah!”
Then rubbed I
the dugout canoe,
and dreamed,
and cared not
who heard my chanted prayer,
nor that I got splinters
in my hand.
I thought of she
and he,
and that they
might be better.
But observational joy
is never a contest.
Tags: chanted prayer, CyranoWriter, dugoutt canoe, feeling joy, happiness, joy, Kuhns, Low Country Native American, McKissick Museum, museum, Native American art, not a contest, observational joy, poems, poet David Kuhns, Poetry, revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse, revolutionary poetry, skin drum, southern, splinter, splinter in my hand, University of South Carolina, www.cyranowriter.com
