The Song

The Song

You can hear it in the morning
brewing in the coffee pot
As you sit at the kitchen table at dawn
Later in the day, when you’re busy at work
You can hear it in the rustle of papers
down at the copy machine
And though you’re too involved think about it
Still, you dance along
You can hear it when your wife calls at noon
You say “I was just thinking of you”
And she says “I just thought I’d call”

You can see it in a dogs eye
And in the toes of a tiny kittens paw
You can feel it in the hand of a stranger
As he helps you up from sidewalk
After an icy night fall
Just as you can feel it in the smooth wooden handles
Of old, well worn tools

You can taste it in a freshly cooked cob of corn
Or in the water from a hose
Out in the yard down at the farm
It’s the nothing
That makes everything whole
And the something that fills the cool air
Of empty beaches and elementary schoolyards
That makes you want to visit
On Sunday afternoons

Everything that lives, everything that is
Dances a grand dance
And sings a grand song
Living is music
And the secret in life
Is to listen for the melody
And then sing along

If ever you wondered at the gossip
Of a bushy brown squirrel
Or sat in the car with your girlfriend
Outside the airport for two hours one afternoon
Watching 737’s take off
You’ve noticed for awhile
A few of the notes in life’s long song
And felt the gentle rhythm
That nudges and twirls us all

You’ll never know where you’re going
Unless you can tell where you’ve been
To know where you are right now
You have to learn to appreciate
The things that are right in front of you

From “The Questioning Way”
Dewey Dirks

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