Public Comment

the wind can change direction
and a bullet-ridden bar
snows across a quiet vineyard
under an orange sky
you brush a wedding dress
from your hair
and sweep polished garden tools
from your windshield
just trying to leave paradise
the valley's treasure boils upward
then settles in drifts along the fences
the wind can change direction
the body knows before the mind
that something unexpected is in store
bring your fiddle with you
and take the road you know