Tuesday, February 25, 2020

Little River Running Free

There are mornings when images speak for themselves, and this is one of them. Complete within themselves, the scenes we encounter on our morning walks have no need of my fumbling unwieldy efforts to capture them in a net of words.

I wish I could share the music of the water running over the rocks. The little river sparkles in the early light. It laughs and gurgles and sings as it flows along under the old trees. At times it sounds like wind bells, like an aeolian harp. At other times it sounds like a few bars from Resphigi's joyous tone poem, Pines of Rome, perhaps a fragment of Aaron Copeland's magnificent Applachian Spring.

3 comments:

Barbara R. said...

The sound of rocks and water, the water tumbling down a stream of water...such a joyful sound.

Mystic Meandering said...

The Music of the Spheres :) When I was a child I used to hear it as well. I used to tell my mother that the water running down the gutter was "talking." Oh to be innocent again, and really *hear* the music...

Guy said...

Lovely

Guy