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| Photograph by Dianne Woods |
If down beat were a butterfly
you'd be jazz
fluttering about.
If music were a river
you'd be a little fish
darting among the rocks.
If song were a forest path
you'd be a doe
wide-eyed in wonder.
If melody were a memory
you’d be a specter
haunting lonely dreams.
If the soloist were a painter
you’d be a sunset
of fading blue love and golden sadness.
If instruments were the voice of the heart
you’d be a golden harp
that sang to angels.
If orchestras were grand mountains
you would be the view from on high
that goes on forever.
Ken Owen November 2013
Van Niddy Press
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