I sit alone. And I hear a sound.One, and-a-two, And three, and-a-four.
It’s a hand. An old piano. Picking out a tune. It seems meant for me. It plays again. And then it repeats.
One, and-a-two, And three, and-a-four. I am at once, a sway, and a bounce. A soft hum begins in the background. A tapping sounds so lightly on the drums. Two grown guys hum in cool harmony. I keep thinking of them as if they’re 8 years old. I want to hum with them.
One, and-a-two, And three, and-a-four. A move, a sway, a bounce.
Words tell about the things I once knew. Happy sounds say things turn out right.
And I believe again in what’s there.
Within the backyards and the hours, the baseball games and innocence of wildflowers, a light shines day and night. A bee hums. The breeze smiles. I feel my own healing power. It’s a good thing, knowing that I’m not alone.
One, and-a-two, And three, and-a-four. I set trouble down. and turn myself around. I step into the light, and dance to higher ground.
I hear music. I see the stars. Day and night.
And my feet dance, and my feet dance, and my feet dance with that piano . . . and two grown guys who hum in cool harmony.
One, and-a-two, And three, and-a-four.
I step into the light, and dance to higher ground.
−me strauss Letting me be
2 comments:
The rhythm of what you say here reminds me of your previous posts on the rhythm of rowing. All of life has a rhythm, and many rhythms coincide and collide and make all sorts of new experiences. When something brings that memory back, we fall right into its' rhythm once again. All that we associate with that time and place comes alive and reverberates.
How cool is that?
I'll have to go back to listen to the rhythm of the rowing to hear. It was a slightly different rhythm when I wrote it, but the backbeat is a similar repeating. I can see why you find them coinciding and colliding. :)
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