Knockin' Byron Hoot For days I've been hearin' what I can only describe as a fist from eternity against my roof, my doors, the sides of my house, my truck. Distinct is the sound of those knuckles. I fear, like a doctor hammering my bare chest with two fingers to see if something's wrong, my heart will be opened and those fingers from that fist will drum a song waiting to see if I know how to dance, not waiting too long, finding out if I'm a dancin' fool or just an ordinary kind.
![](https://i0.wp.com/hootnhowlpoetry.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/pexels-cottonbro-4727499.jpg?fit=2000%2C1333&ssl=1)
An inspired lyric that almost wants to set to music. Bravo Mr Hoot!