Summerness: Robin Chorus at Dawn

Night brings out the muse, usually late.

Last night I went to bed early, giving in to deep relaxed fatigue, layered weights dragging me down the more I relaxed. I awoke way too early, 4:30 AM, not happy about sleepus interruptus, while ruminating mind began planning chores. NO, not now! In a rare appearance these days, my old friend spontaneity came to the rescue. “Get up” s’he said. “Go out and listen to the dawn. Follow the Robins dream. Spiral through the shift from night to day.” So, I got up an went out back to sit on the step and feel the dawn.

Sing robins, sing-
Gossip of angels,
lone voices call
across treetops
(lofty reaches)
in jazzy, lilting riffs.
Each outdoes the other-
point, counterpoint
development, refrain, repeat.
(chorus spinning)
Each answers gurgling trills
in telephonic circulation,
answers and calls,
(leave a message)
conversations which
rise in pitch
to feverish conniptions.

Sing, robins, sing-
thrilling chorus,
bid the light appear as
still air chills and flows in whispers.
The page begins to turn
(huge and gentle)
nudging oceans of molecules to dance.
Shadows barely hint as
the garden broaches the dark pitch.
Bones of structure
rise to the surface,
pale ghost forms
of architecture,
soon to be resurrected,
as night acquiesces.

Sing, robins, sing
for me, when I am gone.
Tell me how the book began
how the story will end.
Tell me why I fear to hear
what you can only sing,
a truth I will never understand.
But tell me yet, for perhaps
I can know as you know,
know in the singing.

I hear, I hear and it’s gone.

Trance Mix: Bird Songs, Clarinet, Rhythm, Late Night Mood

For what it’s worth, there are 15 tracks mixed here. 1 clarinetist improvising to repeated Robin calls, American Robin quarter speed, White Crowned Sparrow, Carolina Chickadee, Acorns dropping on my roof. Sooty Shearwater bird calls, Japanese Winter Wren, and Sage Thrasher at 64 and 128 slowed down speeds. Enjoy!

[audio:https://glitteringmuse.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/TRANCE.mp3|titles=TRANCE]

Cicada Flower Quilt

Pulsing Cicadas emboss Sunflowers
Trapunto, over dusty
tired ivies
Helios’ Chariot chars
burgundy Dahlias
unraveling their light.
Pastel Hibiscus wilt beyond
bleached Rose.
Stiff reefs of electric
Globe Thistle lap by
parched grasses.
Geranium beams
roast Baby’s Breath
Foxglove, Echinacea
While molten smoldering Petunias
pierce through, over and over.

Hummingbird by Wilco

Hummingbird by Wilco (Jeff Tweedy songwriter)

his goal in life was to be an echo
riding alone, town after town, toll after toll
a fixed bayonet through the great southwest
to forget her
she appears
in his dreams
but in his car, and in his arms
a dream could mean anything
a cheap sunset on a television set could upset her
but he never could
remember to remember me
standing still in your past
floating fast like a hummingbird
his goal in life was to be an echo
the type of sound that floats around
and then back down like a feather
but in the deep chrome canyons of the loudest Manhattans
no one could hear him
or anything
so he slept, on a mountain
in a sleeping bag underneath the stars,
he would lie awake and count them
but the great fountain spray of the great Milky Way
would never let him
die alone
remember to remember me
standing still in your past
floating fast like a hummingbird
remember to remember me
standing still in your past
floating fast like a hummingbird
a hummingbird
a hummingbird