Wild Montana Skies

Sense-sational Denver sings of setting, nature and motherhood. A twang in his voice, strings sing along, a lullaby of blessings, by a mother to a son, born beneath “Bitterroot Valley” skies. The son, protected by a mother about to die; as she suckles him. Her impactful words, he can’t understand, but nevertheless she blesses him as she says goodbye; for her he’d never cry. He’d grow up with his uncle; never knew his dad; became a man. Wild, strong, embraced the seasons as a farmer in Montana. All through his days, the spirit of a mother’s blessing kisses him. And I fall in love, my window down, enticed by the fire of John’s voice. I sing along, glory and all like a teenager, as a stranger smiles at me, and I have to forever tone down my intimacy; not drawing attention to this married woman. In “Wild Montana Skies,” I breathe. Before I knew him…before he played god…I’d see him on stage. I’d surely heard him play “Take Me Home, Country Roads,” and “Rocky Mountain High,” in early Navy days, before I said, “I do.” Somewhere down the line, I embrace the swoon of my heart. As if, the strumming, refrain, and John’s voice weren’t enough, joined in the second round repeat by Emmylou Harris; my knees buckle.