Oh, sweet Lord
the fragrance of the evening air
and the shivers up the back of the neck
how can I tell you of what I see?
I see warmth
and peace
sweet peace
I see release
escape
shelter
I see the morning sun
and rain in the day
a warm evening, still
and the black, mystic night
I see coffee at daybreak
I see her honey hair
and a brush by the mirror
and a country road unpaved
early morning mist
and the dog in the yard
I see a plaid shirt
and beautiful smooth legs
that can’t be real
none of this can be real
and a grin, a smile
flowers wild
grass soft
and a t-shirt
I see delicate fingers
and a cigarette
like Mellencamp’s girl
I see pursed lips
and smoke in the room
I see her in a bathrobe
drying her hair
and I watch her close
she laughs
embarrassed
I see the sun set
and the fire burn
I see vodka
and orange juice
I see the fire crackle
and we laugh
alone
and happy
and together
I see us there
away
away from it all
and I feel a chill
when I think
of her and I there
away
alone
together
and I thank God for the vision
the vision of her

you sweet
sweet thing

(from “Part Two: Rosie”)

A wordy catch-all. Sometimes it’s the everyday things that can seem magical: coffee, a plaid shirt, a dirt road. It’s the company that can make them so.