There is Wind in the Mountains and Music

you would think with walls so high that wind

would fall flat and the air would be still but no

there is still wind in the mountains curving up

and around and over and through and well

even though our fingers were fretting fiddles

for hours and then days and then the weekend

the sails of our tunes were up and we were flying

and then suddenly we could see the stars

through the clouds in the middle of the night

as we sat in the pocket of the alps just grooving

through time and feeling timeless as monks

and then monkeys when the tune ended

giggling and chuckling and setting down human

egos while we opened up the skies through

the bowing and the plucking and the strumming

and let loose these old old melodies again

however they would come curving up and around

and over and through and flowing and rolling

swirling all about the walls of our adulthood

if only to make the colors of our childhood return

in blues and reds and greens and clouds

that move through the peaks and the valleys

quicker than a rabbit comes yonder or a red steer

prances or even a devilish dog eats at ground hog