Evening’, soot-souled travelers, bean can believers, and whisper-chasers,
It’s me, Harry — soot in my beard, stars in my eyes, and a hunger for somethin’ more than just the bottom of a bindle. The cans were clatterin’ curious last night, and the fire? It danced different — like it was leanin’ north, beckonin’ me with flickers shaped like arrows and antlers.
Winter’s finally loosed its grip, and the breeze smells less like regret and more like promise. You can feel it in your bones — the thaw. The earth’s stretchin’ out, wakin’ up slow and creaky, like an old dog that’s dreamt too long.
So I packed up my shrine of sacred cans, tucked the raccoon bones back in their pouch, and whispered thanks to the fire for its warmth and its wisdom. I left behind a charm of nails and twine for the next soul that finds my old firepit — may it guide ’em true, or at least keep their socks dry.
Word is, up north, there’s a gathering brewin’. Not the kind with suits and handshakes, but a proper convergence — folks needin’ vision, prophecy, and maybe a little trash fire clarity. Callin’ it a “Spiritual Sustainability Symposium.” Fancy. Sounds like the kind of place that could use a hobo mystic with soot-stained palms and a talent for readin’ fate in the ash of a sardine tin.
I caught a ride partway on a flatcar loaded with rust and rumors. Shared a few beans with a bluesman named Ellsworth, who swears the trees up north hum a tune only the wise can hear. Might be the wind. Might be the world singin’ me home.
Tonight, I camp by a creek that’s laughin’ louder than I’ve heard in months. My cans are arranged in a new pattern — one I ain’t seen before. Could be change. Could be danger. Could be both.
But I ain’t worried. The road north is just another line in the palm of the land. And me? I’ve got soot for ink and a thumb for readin’.
Keep warm, keep wanderin’, and if you see a crow flyin’ due north with a twist of twine in its beak — that’s just me, sendin’ a sign.
Yours in stars and soot,
Hobo Harry
Mystic of the Rails, Keeper of the Twelve Sacred Cans
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