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Small Time Blues
February 20, 2008
Lost in a drizzle of autumn rain,
lost in the spirit of ‘68,
we drifted away with the small time blues.
An old melody,
like slow creaks of a rocking chair
or distant howls from a southbound train,
found its way through our tangled hearts.
Underneath the dim light of our front porch,
I watched Willie’s agile hands dance across
his guitar to the count of two-and-four.
As his warm gaze locked into mine,
our voices, too, mingled into one—
and it lingered like a feather on the breath of God.
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