My mind was cruising down the highway
when Ondine came on
the High Plains Public Radio.

Gaspard de la Nuit

The water nymph’s song sprang
from a waterfall, cascading
from an invisible pianist’s hand
out of the car speakers.

There were oceans of grass
and telephone poles for trees.
The air conditioner could be
the silky lake breeze.

But I only had to close my eyes, and

The asphalt road melted into watery hair,
The sun’s rays paled into lunar glow clear.
Notes hung like icicles, only to fall
– Glimmering, shimmering, that nymphal call –
Into the half-stagnant lake of my mind,
Spreading lucidity, only to find
The mystery of the nymph herself:
That splashing, delving, taunting figure, elf
Of the waters, yielding dolphin-like grace,
Resurfacing with bright smiles on her face,
And dark eyes winking, flutter of lashes,
Gone under again, firework of splashes
That sent my boat lulling up and down …
up and down

the highway

as the sun brought the Kansas flatland back
under my eyelids.

The mellow voice on the radio
praised Ravel’s genius
and mentioned the pianist’s name.

High Plains Public Radio

The recording was made in some auditorium
a couple of years ago.

On the other side of I-70 is Colorado green.
Perhaps I’ll find Ondine there.