Scale
Bubba Henson
Less so because cymbals met
the purple day is what you wrote,
the solitary sky, more or less myself.
What was the ringtone in my ears?
What were the lyrics I mouthed?
What wind from the mountain brought me here?
Through the clouds
a golden ray came
and my lips knew what to sing.
I was a major key in thought.
I was the tune walking, and what I found
and saw or felt came from a stranger’s voice
and then I understood the notes for the first time.
Bubba Henson
Less so because cymbals met
the purple day is what you wrote,
the solitary sky, more or less myself.
What was the ringtone in my ears?
What were the lyrics I mouthed?
What wind from the mountain brought me here?
Through the clouds
a golden ray came
and my lips knew what to sing.
I was a major key in thought.
I was the tune walking, and what I found
and saw or felt came from a stranger’s voice
and then I understood the notes for the first time.