Limber  

Born in the water,
raised up to the sky-
a handful of rain, a guitar
man's fingers limber..a poet's
resonance like gusts of wind.
The breath of jazz, round the
clock, follow the spiral's way out.
Your voice paints the edges
of a sunflower dawn, gazing beyond-
what can we say?
Sail away on concrete clouds
and highway shrouds, jaded words
set alight- walking through this life
like falling from the stars..
Days and nights spent drunk on
words, the first poem, the first
rush of innocent inspiration-
one in the same.

© 2006 Ryan Baier