I can’t help but mention
the dead dog rotting by my fishing hole,
the Laotian woman in her Sunday dress
walking through a puddle
or the man with Down Syndrome
dancing in the street.
Because when I feel music
when I put a boot in sludge
or bring a spotted trout to hand
it all runs through me.
I see a line that connects everything.
We shake, climb, and construct it
as we choose.
