As I walked the concrete path
Of Human presence aftermath –
A sound pulled me from reverie
And teased my ears a peak.

Midst chattered voices, crowded through,
A lonesome bird, a dog or two,
There came a strum of instrument
that slowed my walk to sneak.

While holding breath I stepped anew,
Upon this ground where nothing grew –
Yet no one else had faltered,
Maybe only I had heard?

I closed my eyes and followed sound
Now resonating all around,
Which led me to a man who strummed
Without a singing word.

Belongings gathered in a pile –
It looked like he’d been there a while,
And planned to stay a while more
Where blankets covered street.

Yet still he plucked acoustic string,
So hopeful on what it might bring,
And all the while a sign requested
Coins, so he could eat.

His chords reflected in me, true,
As from his strumming, sadness flew –
For in his sound I heard the
Weeping sky and Wilting earth.

I asked of that man, quietly,
“How is it that, so clear, you see?”
And in response, his clouded eyes
Said he’d been blind since birth.

Jonathon Best 2016  ©