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