Love lingers, still and long
Like a song that repeats in my mind
Drumming quietly like tinnitus, constant,
Every morning I awake to the rhythm
Aspen grove: lemon yellow, neon bright with the sun coming through from the west, trunks stacked like soldiers, olive drab in the shade, white as sailors in the sun.
Sky: clear dry blue, backdropp for leaves quaking in the autumn wind, leaves making sounds like a soft tambourine, leaves shimmering like gold for Danai, falling onto receptive earth.
You are the father of my son
And when all is said and done
You were not the only one
But I will have to say I loved you.
Arias, music of the stars
Drifting in infinite night sky
Opera stage and desert sands compete.
Music is messenger.
If God has a voice
He speaks in vibration, in temperature, in time.
String, reed, percussion