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
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