Grace? it returns

Old guitar strings

Sing

The sound of rain
whispering like rooms
at dawn
you
this place is yours
now take it make it
sing
like a stone
dreaming of a river
like a hand
soft as a wing
like a sadness
past remembering

(From my notebook.
For David Roback, 1958-2020. Thank you.)

photo credits (where not otherwise credited)

“strings” / Derek Story on Unsplash