The stars are breaking loose as if let out of their cages,

And I smell the scent of wilderness drift down from the ages;

There's an eerie yellow eastern glow that'll light these hills up soon-

The glowing, laughing, spotted face of the sphere they call the moon.

The campfire crackles bright and hurls out a spark

That dances in the starlight till it dies out in the dark.

Leaves whisper around me as the breeze whips them about,

And from the coals I catch the scent of two small sizzling trout.

Eyes flit in the forest-my two horses and a mule-

The latter's what you always took out packing, as a rule;

I pick up your guitar and strum out "Riding Down the Canyon,"

And I try to hold my tears back, and all my cares abandon.

You would have loved this night, but it's only me alone here;

A dog and three hoofed compañeros are all that's hanging near.

But your ghost is always with me, pard, and though I just can't see you,

I know you're walking through these woods and looking out for me, too.

The sickness took you from me when I was still a kid,

Just leaving me the tales of all the things you did.

I sit next to the dying fire and sing a trail song to your spirit,

Daddy, I pray God let you come to sit by me and hear it.

 

 

-Kirby Jonas, October 7, 1995

To Daddy, who'll always be my "pard"