“Hope” is the thing with feathers, That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops ... at all - Emily Dickenson

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Old Oaks and John Prine

Cheri R. and I were corresponding today about landmarks and a particular old oak. I am not a sophisticated person. I do not live in the world of the vagueries of poetry. It's plain song lyrics that run through my mind. "...old trees just grow stronger, and old rivers grow wilder every day", - an amazingly perceptive song written by a then young John Prine. With age he has grown into his song.

Then, he turns it around and gives us the perspective of an older woman pining for what might have been, "If dreams were lightning, thunder was desire, this old house would have burnt down a long time ago". Now ain't that a great line?

And last, a short story of awkward, even ugly, young "love". I heard Prine say he can always tell the newcomers, because they laugh...and the old regulars turn to them and glare their disapproval.
It's tough to narrow it down to three songs of John Prine. There are a dozen that should be here. Sam Stone? Paradise? The Speed of Loneliness? Souveniors? How could I leave any of them off? Eh? Oh, and how about Jesus Christ, the Missing Years?

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