I referred to this poem this morning when Keith and I played at the Farmers Market and I promised that I’d post it here.
If you were with us this morning and came looking for it, you are my kind of human. Thank you.
If you stumbled here unknowingly and are reading on for the sheer love of poetry, you are also my kind of human.
Catch by Ciaran O’Driscoll
based on an anecdote of Ed Reavy
It is good for poets to take their
to bed with them, for musicians to
within an arm’s reach of their
Not in vain have I been granted this
a lantern of the mind that wakes
This morning when my son called in
about his roster in my plumbing
I told him that the first thing he
was listen to the tune I caught last
I played it and the boy approved my
A gift of nature, night and urgency:
to slip from beside my dear one and
briskly as a fox to the music-place,
my den of soundproof comfort,
the dear one just arrived won’t wait
Last night I sat to play not knowing
I’d make of the small tumult in my
finding and losing form. But when I
the bow to string, the tune took off
an ice-cube moving on its
From Prairie Schooner; University of Nebraska Press; Volume 85, Number 2, Winter 2011, p 174.