- Vol. 05
- Chapter 11
Today’s the day: We fire up the lifevest harp For a concert, A modest recital Of the lives Of the drowned.
Today’s the day: We do it open-air, Old-school style. Dangerous, I know. But I am covered neck to foot In ultralight Sun-U-Block™. Both demure And so efficient. My hands and neck, décolleté: Factor four hundred.
I’m breathing a flask From Daddy’s cellars: Finest mountain morning. A twenty-six, a vintage year, With notes of pine and meadow, Silky woodlands on the palate, A long dewy finish With just a hint of ash in the aftertaste.
I start to sing: “This Earth’s a broken splendid thing” Smiles and a little flutter of applause Spread around the audience. It’s an old favorite.
The harp retrieves Sweet voices from the depths. Stirring But appropriately muted For those of a sensitive nature.
I follow on with a medley: “As Florida her shores beheld”, “When once down Bourbon I did wade” And that old traditional: “The Algae Fishers”.
I can see a tear in Mother’s eye.
Afterwards she comes and clasps me to her bosom. “What a day,” she says. “What a day to remember.” “Doesn’t it just make you glad To be alive?”