Here’s a poem [an actual sonnet] I wrote after hearing Buddy Guy, one of the greatest of blues guitarists, play at Red Rocks amphitheater, an amazing outdoor venue west of Denver.
Buddy Guy Plays Red Rocks
Fire flashes from the strings as he conjures
the shade of Hendrix, and Little Wing fills the stone
bowl of Red Rocks as the moon rises, full and rust,
into the earth’s dark shadow, and with it a seed
takes root and swells within me as if to burst the walls of my chest,
too small to hold such love and wonder, as the music bathes
this cathedral of stone and stars.
I pray there never comes a time when the rising of the full moon
over the wings of the curving earth, and the blues torn
with the full strength of a man’s or woman’s longing
soul from throat and hand no longer move me,
pray that the spring of song will flow as long as blood
will run, and when one no more,
then no more the other.