Folk Jam Breaks Out at the National Bluegrass Museum
As we emerge from hallways,
the rain raps down like judgment.
Sirens sweep us through bluegrass
milestones, leave us hovering
so deep in the museum.
Near a small wooden stage front,
hands ache to play and applaud.
3 thoughts on "Folk Jam Breaks Out at the National Bluegrass Museum"
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adore:
rain raps down like judgment.
This poem is like a sudden shower–refreshing, concise.
Such great lines!
“Sirens sweep us through bluegrass”