The Hardest Walk
by
Will
Mayo
But perhaps
the hardest walk I ever undertook was from what was then the family home on the
side of the mountain and to the Frederick city limits about five miles away in
temperatures far, far below zero in some winter's Arctic blast. The wind blew
hard that day and my hair and beard turned to solid sheets of ice down to my
shoulders but I kept on walking with my thumb out in a hitcher's gesture. I was
bound and determined to overcome the days and weeks of cabin fever even if it
killed me and then too it nearly did. Finally, I had just reached what was then
the city limits (our fair city has expanded some since then) when an older
couple gave me a ride the rest of the way into town and over to a convenience
store where I stomped my cold feet and rubbed my hands together to gather what
little heat I could muster up before finally giving up and using my last dime
to call for a ride home. I knew then my hitchhiking days were over. I haven't
looked back since.
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Matters Of
Faith
by
Will
Mayo
Yet one day I was being admitted to the hospital for
one of my many minor afflictions when the nurse asked me if I had any religious
preferences.
"Why, yes," I replied. "Druid. I'm a
druid. Just that it's getting harder and harder to find a virgin for one of
those sacrifices, virgins being few and far between these days, you know?"
She too looked at me one long minute then walked away.
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The Old Warrior
by
Will Mayo
As the man ages, wrinkles encircle eyes,
bones settle, and flesh sags where once there was muscle in abundance. Looking
down at himself in the forest, he thinks of all that he has lost. A schoolhall
dance, a love that never was, a battle in defeat about the wasteland of memory;
a hundred things that might have been if only...but, no, never the moments to
pass the time.
Finally, he pauses on the path with weed
and thistle encroaching, the forest canopy letting in just enough sun to batter
the old man’s head. He thinks now of all the friends and enemies he has
survived in this life; many overtaken by disease and the sickness of age. And
then again maybe surviving is not such a bad deal after all.
The man lets loose a smile and a chuckle
as he steps off the path and disappears into the shade of the trees. A last
glance tells him the wildflowers are blooming. After that, there is nothing
more to think about save the beckoning moon.
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The
Day My Love Kissed The Stars
by
Will
Mayo
"Why
don't you join us?" I asked. "Kiss the stars. Make love in the
moonlight."
"Oh,
yes, I believe I will, " she replied.
And she
kissed the stars and made love to the moon and it was simply marvelous to
watch.
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Home Again
by
Will Mayo
Then too I'll never forget how it was upon
my second and last great adventure on the road back in 1977 when I asked my
mother not long after we crossed the international border from Canada to the
United States to pull over. Grudgingly, she pulled over and parked on the side
of the road whereupon I got out and much to her and my sister's embarrassment
got down on my knees and kissed the ground.
Good to be home again.
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EDGE OF NIGHT
by
Will Mayo
The sun rests upon the horizon, just below Luna’s golden disk, and rabbits, squirrels (birds, too) have departed for their sleep, leaving the raven, that otherworldly creature, to issue its final call. The hosts of the house have departed for their evening stroll, as the man below, deep in the confines of that hollowed room, begins to stir.
He opens his eyes, stares out at the canopy of night beyond the basement shutter and begins that awful stroll once more. Back and forth with the pace of one who is quite unwound; then, at last, one foot after another upon the stairs he begins to wander.
When he places himself under the moon’s old glare, he grins that old yellow nicotine smile. It is time to dream.
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