tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26876562.post6660103190281324686..comments2023-10-20T01:14:27.489-07:00Comments on Just a piano player: it might as well be springBarry in Portlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01563401367244981009noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26876562.post-60640032857596919822017-03-26T14:44:14.112-07:002017-03-26T14:44:14.112-07:00Very thoughtful and real Barry. I like to remembe...Very thoughtful and real Barry. I like to remember my ancestors in this poem. Hopefully someone will remember me in this was. <br />Reed<br /><br />Ancestors Breath<br /><br />Listen often the things and their being<br />You will hear our ancestor’s breath, <br />In the fires voice and the roar of the water it is heard,<br />You can hear the ancestor’s breath,<br /><br />Understand those that have died have never left,<br />The dead are not under the earth,<br />The dead have a pact with the living,<br /><br />They are in the rustling trees,<br />They are in the groaning woods,<br />They are in the crying grass,<br />They are in the moaning rocks<br />The dead are not under the earth,<br /><br />They are in the women’s breast,<br />They are in the wailing child,<br />They are with us in the home,<br />They are with us in the crowd,<br /><br />The dead have a pack with the living<br />Their breath is with us always<br /><br />Sweet Honey and the RockDuffer Onehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07713275685977580410noreply@blogger.com