where you were, after…

another wee poem to share…

photo by weaver x …

where you were, after

i would loved to have been there
   woodstock in the sixties

i would have felt belonging with
the masses, 
   called to gather

becoming dazzled
accepting unending music
   enchanting

the damp sweet air
becoming one with the mud, 
the singers, dancers, 
   the lovers

i am that bird singing, perched
on the neck of an electric guitar
winging high upon rhythmic
   rainbow skies, i am

over i became quite miffed 
as to why you all left
all your garbage
i saw all of it
strewn about Yasgur’s farm

   where you were. 

…

—carol weaver © 2022