And the Trees Were Naked in the Fields
As I walked through them on a brisk October day. Leaves dead on the ground and the green grass transforms into a blur. The canopy surrounding me is gray and the air was very crisp. The Alberta Clipper sails by me as my thoughts wander in the seas With no aid from the sextant and the compass The residual ringing from the strings echo in my ears And the eye changes the environment from green and gray to a red from a mature rose. The clouds dance to the mental rhythms And the winds change dynamic at the Conductor’s cue. Then, the trees stood naked in the fields. These branches rise up to the heavens, twisting and reaching forever up. The trunks are deep gray with a smoothness quality to it Making it blend with the blanket of nitrogen and clouds of surreal condensation. A tower worshipping eternally to the Maker. There are paths of asphalt, not really harmonizing with the fields yet green. The outside world enters into a state of an old credo… festina lente Where the vibratos and the bow strokes follow triads of existentialism And the silence of tintinnabulation So I lie down and protect myself with the canopy… sleeping to the last cry from the string…
Date of First Draft: 29 October 1999
Inspiration: Arvo Pärt's "Festina Lente"