pitch the tent beside the river
listen to the rushing water
all day and all night
always the rushing water
even in dreams
sit at a picnic table
in the shade of the pines
seven thousand feet
above sea level
eat, drink, read, write
make coffee over an open fire
chop wood and carry water
sit in the darkness
beside the fire
and simply exist
listen to your fellow camper
with the grey ponytail
blow his sax throughout
the slow afternoon
beside his caravan
hope that one of these days
he plays Van’s Caravan
watch the pine trees sway
in the evening breeze
breathe in the pine
listen to the wind
merge with rushing water
Great poem I was there with you :-)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Rob.
ReplyDeleteI love this!
ReplyDeleteThanks!
Delete"Turn it up, that's enough, so you know it's got soul"!
ReplyDeleteAmen! Have you seen this live performance? -https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WdZLTnRnHs8
Delete