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.