For Sherman

Ageless balladeer strumming his guitar
and singing of the way things should be,
or, with a cry in his voice over the
way things were.

A master, working with wood, making
joints sing as they fit into place, puzzling
together the disparate into a whole. Just
what he did.

Music and songwriter -- colorfully making his point
even if it was black and white hats blending to grey.
How to say something and knowing
what to say.

Inimitably kind, stubborn, irascible.
With a laugh big enough to fill a room with joy.
I have seen him cry, shoulder onward--just
how he was.

Teacher, mentor, muse. All of those and more.
Nothing if not unique. Bigger than life.
And yes, there were times he drove me crazy. But
that was Sherman.

I shall miss my friend. I shall hear
his music across the night sky, in odd
moments on an empty stage. See that smile.
Who he was.