He played
in the dim light
of evening.
The squinting light,
just before night took over.
You could hear
the notes roll
all across our fields
serenading the crops
and scaring the rabbits.
The tinny music,
a respite
from a warm day's work
was beautiful as a spring mist,
sweet as ripe watermelon.
1 comments:
I guess my great-grandfather used to play the mandolin in the evenings. My grandma would tell us all of the time. I want to do more with this. I just wanted to get some thoughts down right now.
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