"Join hands, circle left, let’s begin this song,"
In the valley where Flatirons stand strong.
A Chautauqua garden, where joy takes root,
Square dancers gather in plaid and boots.
Men in white hats, spurs that gleam bright,
Women in flowing skirts, a colorful sight.
"Allemande left, then do-si-do,"
The caller’s voice leads, steady and slow.
In the warm afternoon, they twirl with grace,
Laughter and music filling the space.
Clouds start to gather, the sky turns gray,
Sprinkles of rain join the dance play.
But diehard dancers keep spinning around,
"Promenade home, feet on the ground."
Raindrops cool, a refreshing delight,
As boots splash in puddles, hearts take flight.
Brief is the shower, the skies soon clear,
A rainbow appears, the air fresh and dear.
Birds start chattering in spruce tree nests,
The creek overflows, nature at its best.
Wilted flowers rise, petals open wide,
Square dancing continues, joy as their guide.
"Swing your partner, round you go,"
In this garden, where love and nature flow.
When lyrics that you haven't heard
For maybe forty years
Come pouring out from deep inside
There might just be some tears.
For hearing Graham Nash last night,
Nostalgia reigned supreme
And I was back in college
(Like we all were, it did seem).
I mouthed the words to "Bus Stop,"
But when "Our House" came around,
I sang along, as asked to,
With a joy that did abound.
Like filings, we, the audience,
Were drawn into the pull
Of Nash, the band and venue,*
Where the sound was rich and full.
There's magic to be made, for sure,
When past and present meld
And release some secrets we forgot
That we had tightly held.
*Chautauqua Auditorium - Boulder, Colorado
They told me ghost stories and about spooks,
and that not all was as simple as it looks;
I looked into a mirror but someone else looked back,
apparititions may be clever but they don't have the knack.
Of Earthly pursuits and detaching from celestial routes,
who used to be who or are they still the same?
hands were down by the side, let me out of here,
no worry - you're the one who should have the fear.
They sang:' I'm riding along on the crest of a wave,'
was it true that good fortune favoured the brave,
I deliver my chautauqua, does anyone understand?
Like the old days, spoken all over the land.
They preferred: 'Maybe I should have loved you more,'
didn't want anything new, that's what they'd asked for.