The Troubadour of Plochmann Lane

 

                                                                          for Levon

the cherry red kit still resonates

with beating heart weaving in and out

of generations

the Weight of remembrance

lies heavy on us

as you turn and wave

and disappear into the stardust cosmos

leaving hot music nights

and dancing days

the echoes of songs wrenched

from hardscrabble beginnings

and Wild journeys through innocence

and bold experience

 

too soon your Voice subtracted

too soon the Dance winds down

songs rise like prayers

as mist from the lake’s surface

in the frosty dawn

absorbed into the ether

when there’s nowhere else to go

except Forever

 

candy apple red

reverberations

of notes played among other demons

other gods

an empty glove a bottle of water

and sticks just set aside

such homely touches

and i bet you never smelled

so damn many roses in all your life!

more like Sweat

from crazy dancers

lit like Fires in the midnight

more like smoke and burning herb

and wet dog

and starshiny catskill evenings

 

sweet with harmony

sticky with barbeque

noisy with children dodging between the notes

the beats the rhythms

of the Music that remains

when there is nowhere else to go

except Home

 

 

©2012 pamela twining