The Boatman Considers a Scone by Ron Hayes

Three Drops from a Cauldron

The Boatman Considers a Scone

Centuries upon centuries of oaring
ingrates across this boring river
and finally I’m bored too. Used to be
I’d never notice what they’d wear
or who they showed up with, but now
I’m fascinated with every one.

Yesterday a woman from Hibernia
arrived at my dock holding no coins
but what looked to be a stone. “No,” she said,
“scone,” and immediately I was lost.
What’s a scone? “You eat it,”
she said, and I laughed out loud.

“Might just as well be a stone,” I said
in helping her aboard. Her eyes went
blank as she sat, rigid as an oar,
brought the scone to her lips.
“Scone,” she said, but not to me,
and, coinless, I pushed away from shore.

Ron Hayes is a poet and fiction writer from Erie, PA. He holds a Master of Fine Arts from Queens University of Charlotte…

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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