Just a Song

That insistent strumming presses beneath the surface of his melancholy voice, Calling forth the stories we’d long forgotten, as we moved forward. But something inside our bodies remembers That tune, that voice, That universal longing. His song reaches back through the veils of time And pulls forward the tapestry of history Laying it out across…

Summer Moon

He holds her like the summer moon She’s large and bright, taking up the whole sky Moonlight streaming between his fingers and running off into the humid night. He’ll laugh and tell you, you know, you can’t hold the moon… but we all know she needs a place to call home