Just Pete Seeger and his Banjo

Late morning, winter, dancing alone in the kitchen

Solo entertainment of a grown child

Just now he shucks off his cruel father

Who taunted him for being blind

A wind blows his torso dips

The father ghost retreats

To its covert—and his raving mother

She follows, carried by shadows

Dancing alone, not a poem,

Nothing literary about it

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

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