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Music:
Preludes and Fugues, Book 1, Prelude No. 8 in E Flat
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All winter long the willows
wait, Nor more nor less than willing, Glad to be, but just a bit Entropic in their chilling. Life longs ever for rebirth, Awake to its long sleep, As willows need their leaves for breath, Numb until they weep. Do, then, winter well beneath More blankets than you know, Immense as any mustard seed, Content to dream for now, Holding in your arms a light As Earth slides through its bitter night, Ever doomed to bliss and blight Lest things too easy go. Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
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