Zach, your balkan folk hymns
conjure new worlds
and celebrate ancient cultures
with the virtuosity
of a musical shaman.

Your soundscapes, woven together by
quavering flugelhorns and dancing ukuleles,
invoke Slavic villages
and forlorn, empty streets,
where the the sun is setting.

Your soaring trumpet tunes
tap into hidden, enchanting codes
and quicken my blood flow.

Your harmonies ferment into potent wine
whose vintage effects
imbue me with nostalgia
for the countries of my imagination.

Zach, my greatest teacher, friend and solace,
whatever you sing is better than to know
for melodies are more than words.