I first taught my fingers
how to walk the blues pentatonic
over Hank William's chords
sat for hours as they roamed
over rosewood, listening for
silent falling stars
and tonight, it is cloudless
over heavens that regard
calluses as hard-earned medallions
and blue-collar-moons
don't mean nothin' ornery
in the countryside of
a worn down acoustic
that shapes its hillsides
with the tension set just a little
too high
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