Harmony's River

If life is a river

and music its current,

I’ve been prone

at the base of this mountain

as your words splash

in rivulets down its sides,

catching some in my mouth

for nourishment,

letting others murmur downhill

to join the stream of songs

we know by heart.

Now you’re gone,

this song-bed will dry;

I’ll seek new sources

but there’s no hope like yours.

One day we’ll meet north

of your moon, south of stars

and I’ll thank you.

In memory of Charlie Chesterman, who will never know how much his songs mean to this humble verse-scribbler. Fly high, Cowboy--

I used some of Ed Pilolla’s nice word list for the Real Toads. It’s also #6 of 30 Poems in November to benefit Center for New Americans.