Blues Therapy

BLUES THERAPY She’d had a tough day, her aging mother struggling two siblings wounded and worried, a gray day with snowfall, darkness early and long The husband knew what she needed and when she started on dinner, staving off decisions for yet another hour, he put on Bonnie Raitt, you know, the kind of smokey blues singer that helps a long-haul trucker through the mountains of Pennsylvania, off the Allegheny Plateau, across Interstate 90, and up Route 81, the NAFTA run to Montreal in the hours after midnight, gears grinding hard on the endless up-grades, wrestling the heavy load on the downhill curves and through the lake-effect squalls, the tires, and the groaning, and the roaring of the diesel playing dark back-up music to the righteous redhead with the big silver streak who carried his wife through the sad, and the bad, and the good sure to come Smokey blues therapy on a February night The Hunger Moon hopeful! Winter wearing them down!