(Listening to Pat Metheny’s Last Train Home)
You travel swift and
sure of your destination
and I’m along for the ride
leaning into the wind
your urgent strums carrying me
into the vividness of
mountain lakes and pines
pulsing me west
past the narrows
into swaying prairie
and I hold my breath
for the moment when
your song breaks free
aching with new color
and we soar together
into the huge thrumming sky
