Thursday, August 14, 2014

The Band from the Beer Garden (1948)

Dawn Potter

We played in rain, we played in snow, we played by lantern light.
Our fingers ached, our throats were raw.

Every night we sang all night.
Then, at dawn, under a blood-streaked sky,
under those scarred and dangerous stars--

how the winds rocked the car,
how the roads misunderstood us!

I don’t know who we thought we were.
I don’t know why we thought
we were anybody at all.

[from Chestnut Ridge, a verse-history-in-progress of southwestern Pennsylvania]

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