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ENDLESS - By Susan Isla Tepper
V9
03:082026-05-09
45
american folk, subdued / intimate, acoustic guitar, slow 6/8 ballad feel with gentle sway
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[Intro]
[verse]
ENDLESS
The wet dawn
a struggle to make the hill
from weeks of walking
His lather—
crusted-over eyes
the short sleeps only
to force up, continue on.
All here was vast,
Endless—
as he recalled.
Puffing to reach the top
of the rise
he spotted the stone house
still a fair distance
the chimney smoke barely visible
A good sign, that smoke;
all in all a good sign.
This early hour
she’d be inside
dampening her hair
from the basin
knotting it tight at the neck.
How to explain the long absence;
months trickling to years.
Surely by now a new man
in charge— of her and the premises.
Squatting, he watched.
When at last the door opened
she came out alone to pitch the hay
lithe, still, under a dress
she swung that fork mightily.
This stirred him—
knees folding into high grass
contemplating what
brought a return to these parts.
Unable to answer,
if only to himself.
Some time close to noon
turning once to gaze back,
the clouds thinning out, stretching
smeared the painted sky.
