AND BOB DYLAN TOO
“Anything worth thinking about is worth singing about.”
Which is why we have
songs of praise, songs of love, songs
of sorrow.
Songs to the gods, who have
so many names.
Songs the shepherds sing, on the
lonely mountains,
while the sheepare honoring the grass, by eating it.
The dance-songs of the bees, to tell
where the
flowers, suddenly, in themorning light, have opened.
A chorus of many, shouting to heaven,
or at it, or
pleading.
Or that greatest of love affairs, a violin
and a human
body.
And a composer, maybe hundreds of years dead.
I think of Schubert, scribbling on a café
napkin.Thank you, thank you.
gratefully yours,
jag
No comments:
Post a Comment