The Bard Sings

1 The Bard sings for a moment past.
2 His song-and-dance is a quick step, shuffle, and skip
3 with accent and emphasis added for subtle effect,
4 but that is then and this is now,
5 a rhapsody of spring for which I do not sing.
6 A scattered thought and hollow feel are the best I scratch,
7 but the words we share like pen on paper carry significance 
8 that the parsing machines will never catch.
9
10 In my awkward caesura and empty sayings,
11 a refreshing winter-gust of wind smacks
12 of the nuanced understanding 
13 when stepping out into the dark, 
14 where tingling pores of uncovered skin feel a spirit near;
15 there, in that space -- translucent breath 
16 unseen in any real, lasting, photogenic sense -- 
17 is life beyond measurement.
18
19 In his streaming coherence 
20 and my over-complicated nonsense,
21 poetry encodes the human ethos 
22 shared by lauded troubadour 
23 and your empty, anxiety-ridden acquaintance. 
24 In the unsettled rhythms and rhymes of life,
25 far from the warm summer of convention,
26 we find ourselves standing in the cold alive with logos. 

10.14.20