Across the Border

Across the Border

There was an easy joy there.
across the border.

It began with the chaos of camping
along the river park,
tents and cars 
tarps, chairs, tables, filling in
like puzzle pieces to a
jigsaw tightness.
Friends calling across the hoods of cars,
hugging around tent poles
and lines,
Children slipping between.
"You know you are at a festival"
said Rob
"When you see your first naked baby
run by."

Perhaps the clothing,
that frumpy elegance
that you only find
in another country.
Leggings,
shapeless shifts
short dresses,
long shorts
Brightened with a hat,
A silk scarf,
flowers.
Anything could be worn
in combination
with anything else.
And here, across the border,
no familiar eyes,
to whom we have given the power
of judgement.
just color and comfort among strangers.

I am sure the language
had to do with it as well
For those of us from away
smiles and gestures,
and the occasional word or phrase,
sometimes remembered from school
or not.
source of laughter.
Conveying only that which was
Necessary,
Polite,
Joyful. 
All fine reasons to speak.
in any language.

And of course,
the music,
bows lift the tune 
and bring down the beat.
breath blown into flutes, through bellows
giving voice to wood and silver
chords, lightly, fiercely struck on strings
beat and melody.
Fingers flying
feet tapping out
the insistent
Da Ga DA!
We are here!
We are joy!
We are song!