Bone of Song

Just where it now lies, I can no longer say I found it on a cold and November day In the roots of a sycamore tree where it had hid so long In a box made out of myrtle lay the bone of song The bone of song was a jawbone old and bruised And worn out in the service of the muse And along its sides and teeth were written words I ran my palm along them and I heard Lucky are you who finds me in the wilderness I am the only unquiet ghost that does not seek rest The words on the bone of song were close and small And though their tongues were dead, I found I knew them all In the hieroglyphs of quills and quatrain lines Osiris, the fall of Troy, Auld Lang Syne Kathleen Mauvoreen, Magnificat, Your Cheatin’ Heart The chords of a covenant king singing for the Ark Then I saw on a white space that was left A blessing written older than the rest And it said leave me here, I care not for wealth or fame I’ll remember your song, but I’ll forget your name The words that I sang blew off like the leaves in the wind And perched like birds in the branches Before landing on the bone again Again Then the bone was quiet it said no more to me So I wrapped it in the ribbons of a sycamore tree And as night had come I turned around and headed home With a lightness in my step and a song in my bones Lucky are you who finds me in the wilderness I am the only unquiet ghost that does not seek rest