Ode To a Whistler

The whistler, In the moonblossomed, Evening, Hums along, Like a modest star, His own company, And melody, With the golden leaves, Bound to nothing, But his own romance, A drifter of drifters, A gypsy of gypsies, He and she, Is like a great and sweet, Actress, With astonishing range, Improvising, Waves, Delighting, Windkissed flowers, And unsung holidays, The whistler, As he hums along, The shores of soul, Dawn, and evenings, With his holiday presents, Of melodies, Windcaressed, Through the haze, Is cool as the mallards, Upon sunset lakes, A jazz wanderer, Romancing hems, And crescents Reynaldo Casison