Wednesday, March 27, 2013

He Lets It Go As It Will

Bare shade trees lined the edges
Of dead orchards. The sedges
Lined the lake. Migrating birds

Spoke to me in my own words,
But sweetly, even the geese.
Out of the sore body, peace

And surprising ease replaced
Maudlin discomforts. I traced
The gaps, the wonderful voids

Between a note and a voice,
The grace and the resonance
Of the gray and dissonant,

Mysterious roadside air,
And I forgot to despair.
Give roads their roar and whining.

Time for every singing thing,
For whatever comes along,
To make music for its song.

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