Peace On Earth
The chords to “Oh Holy Night” are on the screen, large and bright, slowly scrolling at the speed in which I’m comfortable strumming to. Most of them are easy to hit without an errant twang or sour note; B7 and Dm are the hard ones. I try to skip over them altogether, but it just isn’t right, they’re that important to the next crescendo and elevation of the song. I sit the guitar to the side and stare at the monitor waiting for inspirational lightning that never strikes. And then I just listen to the world.
A semi rolls into town on Highway 20 from the west; it applies its Jake brakes out there near the co-op, slowing itself down just enough to remain safe, avoid the lawman, and keep his momentum going until he reaches the east edge before throttling back up again.
Peanut lies on the floor behind my chair and snores, her appetite gratified by the boneless chicken breasts I’m asked to prepare; her age and health allows for such doggie delicacies. I can let myself cry if I want to when I think about the circumstances. She’s been a joyous pain in my side and we’ll miss her when the angels come.
The valves on a diesel engine clack and ping as it pulls a medium size load of something up the slight grade on my street; straining little. If the trailer were empty it would bang more on the bumps and hiccups that exist on the road, if it were fully loaded, the rattles remain hushed.
I hear the gravel crunch in the driveway as a door opens and shuts, somebody is outside, hopefully someone to work on the house. I don’t owe anyone any money so it isn’t a bill collector and the Jehovah’s don’t seem to bother folks around these parts.
A small flock of geese are up there in the sky somewhere, it sounds like only five or six. They're flying low, circling perhaps to size up the sewage lagoons or surrounding fields for a meal. Nothing lives in the lagoon so that’s gonna be a bust and the chaff and corn stubble are naked; their search will continue elsewhere when reality sets in.
The local wolf howls into the morning chill, calling out, looking for companionship or some other form of recognition. Maybe the thoughts of a fresh goose breakfast dropping from the Heavens enliven his spirit and imagination. It’s hard to say.
I’m not a mechanic, but I know when a car needs a new muffler and if one of its plugs isn’t igniting… and it just backfired as it passed by.
I’m sure they’ll take care of it one of these days.
But coincidentally, it reminded me of another favorite Christmas song, “Do You Hear What I Hear?” So, being the hopeless dreamer that I am, I Googled the chords and gave it a go. It did not go well. Peanut even got up and moved to the other corner of the garage. (That still won’t ever deter me from trying.)
I hear a blue jay as it caws in the evergreens. I hear a cow up the road a piece, bellow and bawl. I imagine a donkey bray as it works its way toward Bethlehem. I hear it’s carrying our Savior; it’s a beautiful sound.
