Arriving guests shiver, feels like thirty below.
The band in the parlour begins to tune instruments.
Outside, a village of corn shock tops shake, flag in the field
where the mouse hides like a bird in a cage
thankful for green kernel snows.
He will return from the river, this voyager
follows the path and a fiddle note, wailing against wind
toward lamp lights left in the window, back to her home.
Few hundred meters more, there will be wine and sixteen hands around.
Afternoon bleeds last light on distant hilltop scarecrow.
In the big house, she rocks in the crying room, pleading, fait do do.
Sleep, he may decide to dance with another, having heard rumor.
Button accordions sigh, breathing in and out, in and out.
At the close of her front door, the music starts the dance
they touch finger tips and step together, tonight.