I'm listening for a song:
I am hoping it is the song
of the coming spring -
the song of buds appearing mysteriously
when we are not looking,
the song of purple flowers
on notes of green.
The song I hear this morning
is in the key of winter,
the wind pulling at the shingles
trying to pry the warmth
from my house.
It is composed of the same few chords -
cold,
and colder,
with occasional false promises
and an arpeggio of hard white sun.
Poco a poco, con amore, pianissimo -
come now and join the chorus,
Living Things.
We have been waiting too long
in this intermezzo.
audio: https://soundcloud.com/mbonica/waiting-for-a-song
I am hoping it is the song
of the coming spring -
the song of buds appearing mysteriously
when we are not looking,
the song of purple flowers
on notes of green.
The song I hear this morning
is in the key of winter,
the wind pulling at the shingles
trying to pry the warmth
from my house.
It is composed of the same few chords -
cold,
and colder,
with occasional false promises
and an arpeggio of hard white sun.
Poco a poco, con amore, pianissimo -
come now and join the chorus,
Living Things.
We have been waiting too long
in this intermezzo.
audio: https://soundcloud.com/mbonica/waiting-for-a-song
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