O the Nightsingers, they celebrate
the June moon
friendly and warm and full
like a mother's face beaming at her
children.
You were there with me, you know
the harmony
'tween crickets and starlight and we
around the fire with our guitars and
drumming.
Sweet voices, raised in song,
us and they
not so different after all,
our living, dying, believing,
and joy.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
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