Last night, the chorus I sing in had its last practice with our long-time conductor. I wrote this this morning, thinking of her and our time together:
THE LAST SONG
~for Susan Borg
Every song is the last.
How can I keep from singing—
that group in the church loft,
remember? and we stopped
and looked around, amazed.
No audience but ourselves.
Francois and Chuck over the rainbow,
with tears in their eyes and our eyes.
Hallelujah on New Year’s Eve
and the audience sang, too.
Hearth and Fire that last night,
all together, my voice breaking
as I met your eyes. Every song
is the last—each song, each time,
these singers, where they are,
what they carry, what they hold,
what they let go.