Summer Banjo

Generosity of candlelight

Reflected from grateful surfaces

Of fruit bowl planets;

Todays winds, that stilled the gentle

Tadpole breaths of unborn lambs,

Carried snow past hesitant windows

Will be gone, gone, gone:

Like the words of a song,

Like hard-to-count years in harness.

From somewhere in the

Long-possibility tomorrows

I almost hear the

Summer banjo players

Getting closer …

And I don’t need to

Check my tickets.

2/4/2013