| 
|
The
Cabbage Patch Wind
The cabbage patch wind blew in today
wafting with thoughts of old sensations
memories and impressions.
The ones that only weather and song induce
Sometimes simultaneously
I had Dylan on the radio
And he must have had me in mind
When he penned and played the tune
that shouted through the cab, of my pick-up truck
I drove softly down the street
to the ticking beat that blared with beautiful noise
Once I felt the same wind on my arms
not many years ago in human terms
Sitting in the cafe, riding in the Chrysler
through a tiny town that had just birthed
a Homecoming parade, complete with marching band
floats and horses.
Now She lay in the melancholy depression of
a postpartum autumn afternoon
We cruised the streets and watched them roll by
from a window landscape in the cool padded
comfort of the corner booth.
And what did we listen to that day?
I can almost pick the melody from
the fog and memories washed.
Not anymore.
But it was something familiar
and close enough to touch
Doesn't matter though
I've got Dylan goin' now
And somethin' to look back to.
|
 |
