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blown cherry
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Sitting idly in the car,
flicking around the radio stations.
Find a German religious anthem from the 1800s, sung by an all male choir.
The voices of the trebles glide in and out of the silence,
the violins come in underneath,
soaring close to my ear,
the basses are the heart beat holding it all together,
and then the young boy sopranos send their clear toned song over them all.
The music moves on, forward, higher.
Now for the allelujahs,
the sounds unite and there is such strength in the sound,
such power,
and
beauty
soars through my soul.
And all I think of is you,
because this is how you make me feel.
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Walking through the old,
overgrown cemetery at dusk.
The ocean to one side,
the waves crashing in forcefully,
but without menace.
The water glints a silvery blue
in the light of the setting sun.
Outlined on the horizon
above on the slight hill,
tall grave stones are silhouetted
by the maddeningly orange sky,
and the burning pink wisps of cloud.
A scene too beautiful to be able to keep.
A caprice treasure, once glimpsed
but frozen in time inside my heart forever.
And all I think of is you,
because this is how you make me feel.
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020627
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