Old FitzWilliam Inn

1/12/01

Seven rings of the Town Hall bell,

me bumping around in this old inn

bringing in more wood

building the fire

making strong Columbian

sitting here by the fire

looking out at the snowy common.

Jeri’s still asleep up in room 5

the innkeeper’s in her apartment

no one else is around

the doors are locked tight.

A paper tacked to each door reads:

1/10/2001

THE FITZWILLIAM INN WILL

BE CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER

NOTICE

DUE TO UNFORSEEN DIFFICULTIES WITH THE

SEPTIC SYSTEM

THANK YOU 

Things are more than they seem.

No other guests have been around for days.

The Innkeeper in Hancock told us,

“I heard they were closing down.”

Workers talk in low tones.

Last night, coming in after dark, pictures were gone in the parlor along with the love seat and couch,

lamps and window candles were unplugged.

Today the old Fitzwilliam

which sheltered minutemen,

provided grog and grub

for travellers for two centuries

is silent.

The sun beats into the parlor upon me.

I close my eyes and

breathe deeply, forseeing the time when

loved ones will talk in low tones around me.

My belongings will be pared down.

Then I’ll be silent.

A paper might be taped on the doors:

1/10/2021

MIKE EASTERLING WILL

BE CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER

NOTICE

DUE TO UNFORSEEN

DIFFICULTIES WITH HIS

SEPTIC SYSTEM

THANK YOU

Hell, the old FitzWilliam will rise again,

a new owner and manager, new life.

This old place will hum again.

So too old Mike,

with a new heart and mind, new life.

I will hum again.