SHE SINGS

SHE SINGS
(FOR JUDY COLLINS)

She sings, a capella at first, a strong soprano in the amphitheater.
A melody of the working class, those hearty women of the past,
That garnered bread and roses.

Then piano crisp shimmers in the evening air
And her guitar strings ring strong against the microphone,
And she sings the song of a lover from afar,
A cowboy who rides the rodeo, coming for her someday soon.

Trees rustle and you could hear a pin drop
As her voice pierces hearts in the very back rows.
The clouds like castles of ice cream float above the Filene Center,
As she sings their praises in perfect pitch,
Opens the door to the audience that awaits
Who have gathered for an evening spent in the presence of greatness.

A maid of constant sorrow, a sorrow she transcends
Through the healing balm of music and the company of friends.
A musical trek through the mountains where she once wandered free,
A hale and hearty mountain girl, a transplant to the city.

Evening falls, and the Vienna darkness cloaks the air.
In a white gown, she sits behind the grand piano
And sings of boating down the river Seine,
The memories of a father dear, the secret gardens of flowers fair.
Isn’t it rich, the way she caresses a lyric and makes those clowns appear?
An evening divine under cool autumn skies.

She sings, a capella at last, the sweet sound of amazing grace,
Strong soprano in the amphitheater, smiles on every face.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

AUTHOR'S NOTE: TODAY, MAY 1ST, IS JUDY COLLINS' BIRTHDAY. SHE IS MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE
SINGER OF ALL TIME! THIS IS THE SECOND OF TWO POEMS I'VE WRITTEN FOR HER. THE OTHER "SONGSTRESS OF SILVER" IS FEATURED ELSEWHERE ON THIS BLOG. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JUDY, AND THANKS FOR SO MUCH BEAUTIFUL MUSIC!