“For Brynn and John”
It’s not hard to see how a love
born of the band, of brands of beer,
adorned with the will to tutor, to make
melodies grow, will grow broad and deep,
how a love bred of our best properties,
concerts of baseball and symphonies,
will bend, hand into hand, body into
body, long yarn towards eternity.
Call it corny, but the horns played
the day they met, and brayed a joy
loud enough to be ringing still, in days
when notes will call us all beyond bodies.