And what does day three of poem-a-day month have in store? Another rough-as-guts poem, of course.
This circular six-syllable-line whimsy mixes down two of my favourite pastimes, drinking and music.
The session
…and here we are at the
first bar, our regular
beat semi-remembered,
“How’s it going?” “Great form!”
we are sitting in lines;
we pause, uncertain, lean
for a rest then pick up
in the second and third
bars, smooth moves, graceful, we’re
feeling playful, pacing
ourselves over the next
thirteen bars; round after
round, doubles, triples, our
signature, from time to
time we almost lose the
run of ourselves, fading,
falling; after a brief
rest in the last bar we
hear: time, gentlemen, please,
so DC al Coda…
Leave a Reply