by Roy Ayers

For the love of August, the ending of summer the beginning of fall.

Oh I remember conversation on the Ave.

Him smoking cigar and quite chatty when he had time.

When he was in the zone, just leave the man alone.

For the love of August, the ending of summer the beginning of fall.
This man was tall. He remember all the lines he ever written. And there were lots.
Lucky me in Seattle,
To walk the Pittsburgh shuffle with greatness, and in the moment, not to be smitten.
Look, there’s August Wilson.

Where? Right there, don’t bother that man. He got his mind in some timeless

Blues language. Some child’s monologue.

Some actor dialogue. Some director’s notes.
Give that man some room and he’ll speak to you with a quiet whisper, rhythmic lyrics in ancestral tone.
Seattle actor have you worked with Wilson? Oh yeah … 86 and watch Lloyd Richards spin Fences around the Rep.
Lucky me To walk with Pittsburghs shuffle of greatness.
For the love of August, the ending of summer the beginning of fall.
End