1.23.2007

Poetry 365: He sings at the campfire

He played a Gibson guitar,
the one with the hummingbirds
carved in the pickguard.

He had small hands,
so He avoided the F chord
when He could.

He was too humble to sing.
He was happy to play
while John fumbled at the words.

"And Jesus was a sailor,
when he walked upon the water."
Cohen never sounded so sweet.

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