The gift of a song from Erin. It makes me feel Spring whenever I hear it.

 Big Fran’s Baby

Is there anything better than

cruising past new plowed fields

with Big Fran’s Baby blaring on the radio?

A Cajun waltz so wild

so tangled and twangy--

The old pump organ sucking all that mulchy smell

right up out of the new turned earth

whisking it out of its careful lines just to give it a spin.

And the accordion coming in just in time 

to grab some tart little breeze

and dip and slide and twirl it right up to those fat clouds

daubed onto their cornflower sky.

Big Fran’s Baby makes the lone Mexican riding his bicycle

feel epic as a Steinbeck hero.

It makes me want 

to plunge my hands into all that good spring soil

and wriggle my fingers 

through its damp and gritty possibility.

Big Fran’s Baby makes this road feel like a parable.

It forces me to pull right over to its rutted edge

next to a gnarled old Jacaranda tree

just to feel the triple time snare beat through my pulse

and plant this poem on the back of a Safeway receipt.

Big Fran’s Baby makes this day feel like the first day

or the last day

or the only day there ever was.