Ascend an Octave Lovingly

Spring emerged.

Rain dripped and

dropped; fast at

first; then became

slow, which from a

distance might give

the impression

of a summers day

knocking at your door...

Or the sound of hearts,

beating. Then floating

sounds (or butterflies

perhaps) clouds, sanguine

over hills. Then autumn

and north wind blows a dissonance

over trees; their leaves stained by a cool like

the blush of my cheek, or the end of my nose; Sharp

but appassionato non-the-less and more-so at tips

of fingers.

Winter always

seemed to me as the

slowest time of year and

as I recall more closely

spring appears. Yet the strangest thing

I ever found is how notes change with

distance and

perspective

until together

in my mind...

major seventh.

Reviews

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can't believe this isn't reviewed..your words are a melting pot of wisdom and so eloquently placed to capture the beauty of your words..bravo