The Troubadour

The Troubadour Like water reflecting upward To a canopy of trees Like blossoms on cacti In a red rock valley The troubadour makes miracles from words Like meteors traveling From distant silence Like canyons carved From deliberate waters The troubadour makes magic from sound Like sunrises over mountains On cloudless mornings Like snowfall on asphalt Like wind in daffodil fields The troubadour makes songs That sing my life The troubadour paints the air With dichotomy and wine Like the wondering albatross I'm airborne on an ascending scale The troubadour is gale The troubadour is calm The troubadour is harvest The troubadour is seed The troubadour is nova