For Alex

i can still hear hear Jud calling out
“Alex!”
with that characteristic upward inflection
as we play Daisy a Day
one more time
one more time to ride the night winds
in the Subaru chariot
like a Homing Pigeon
(now banned by the Taliban)
we kept the innate homing ability
of the wild rock pigeon alive
it would be
of course
a Rock pigeon
not a jazz or rap or hiphop pigeon
when around that curve on
route 2
around 2 or 3 am
when what did our bleary eyes see
a moose staring at us
on the center line
then turning
ambling
slowly leading us
a mile or so down the road
before turning off into the woods
talking talking talking thru the night
music, philosophy, religion
or the latest gestalt-rock issue of the day
tucked into the cabin at last
home
on the couch
window to the world of loons
Flagstaff Lake
the first sounds of the new day
wood in the stove
floss
begin again
plot the departure time
to the next gig
the next opportunity
to communicate
with nothing but notes and rhythm inflection nuance and spirit
but first
tend the flower beds
the tomato beds
but first
touch the earth itself
the earth even now recalls his touch
his care
his music left to vibrate on to infinity and beyond
i miss you
 already
and will raise a glass of rye
as i
listen
once again
for that inimitable
call
for your reliable
steadiness
joy
and spirit
“Alex!”
hear the fiddle commence
the trombone blast
top hat on his head
legs akimbo
the
music
will never
end
and Alex
as always
is leading
the way
home
amen