The Reverberate Hills; or The Apotheosis of the Narwhal

pale veil of grey mist over the chilly valley . . . the blur of street lamps

on my left, sunrise; my right, it's already day train tracks run between

a much-traveled road familiar landmarks slip past a remembered tune

when summer returns remember the skeletons beneath the green leaves

bird on a bare branch, is your song of grief or joy? do you sing for me?

San Francisco Financial District, January 2017

each day a sunset some extravagant beauty as the darkness falls

walking down one street then walking down another the wind went with me

an elegant tree in a heavy painted pot toppled by the wind

The shortest month has a lot going on, particularly in new music: go listen to something where the ink is as wet as the winter sidewalks! ...