Under The Autumn Moon: Enter Two Singers In The Chorus

The red butterfly flying on the lower hem of your robe reminds me Autumn is a season of sudden flights. A green thread circles the red butterfly, and both move in perfect sync. Circle and insect are witnesses to the passing seasons. Autumn moves in stately measures toward winter and the New Year. We are its fellow travelers. The butterfly is grounded until Spring. So there will be no singing in my life for the next six months. I will search in the partial silences of the world A Redeeming Music. By Thanksgiving I will return to our society. By Christmas I will be teaching the Chorus new melodies you must learn by heart. By New Year's Day we will ready to premiere. Where will I look for these melodies? Are some lodged in the corridors of my brain? Are song birds presently singing them? Can you hear the lone flute? the solitary guitar? From my dreams... all of them.