Guitars

I thank you, Father, for guitars. I thank you for the long, slender necks, the feel of wood beneath my fingers, the vibrating strings, the hum of the low strings and the tinkling of the high, the countryish twang that comes from playing by the bridge and the harp-like sweetness when you play high on the neck, just shy of the sound-hole. I thank you for the diversity of the instrument, its capability of producing lilting lullabies, triumphant praises, songs that make you tap your foot and songs make you tear up, songs with driving ferocity and energy and darkness, and songs that lift the spirits. I love my guitar.