The French Horn Behind Me
by Jerry Ratch
When I looked back
There was a trail behind me
My two footprints
Trudging along in the snow
On the long walk to school
And right there beside me
That single wobbling
Snail-like trail of my heavy
French Horn case
Like God. Like a reminder
Of the burden
That is ever with us
Wherever we go
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Nice!
I can see it. I can almost hear its brassy flatulence at practice. And the analogy? Priceless. *
Ivan, how do you spell that?
Resonates with me.
Hey, I schlepped a baritone sax 1.49 miles to school (1.5 and you got a bus ride). Snow dragons are in my DNA. *
"Ivan, how do you spell that?"
s-e-s-q-u-i-p-e-d-a-l-i-a-n
Brassy responsibility.
Love it! *