(C) R.L.K.
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1. EARLY SUNDAY AGAIN
There is a sound like the splash of rainwater beside the fence row. This one day begins, as other days have begun. Something simply comes to be, perhaps the idea of a journey. Branches sway, suggesting a way to go. There is another sound, like laughter. The wind blows the gate open.
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1. EARLY SUNDAY AGAIN
There is a sound like the splash of rainwater beside the fence row. This one day begins, as other days have begun. Something simply comes to be, perhaps the idea of a journey. Branches sway, suggesting a way to go. There is another sound, like laughter. The wind blows the gate open.
2. THE WOMAN IN BLUE DENIM IN A HOTEL LOBBY JUST BEFORE MIDNIGHT
Is it the sound of the rain that she is listening to so attentively? It is best not to guess, but rather to simply wait. After all, to come into this place out of the storm is to begin to wait. On such a night, one can hear a different music, and dream about a different shade of blue.
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3. THE LANDING, A CERTAIN PORT
It is getting late. Dark clouds are rolling in, yet the ship remains in sunlight as it drifts, slowly, toward the shore. That, at least, is something to sing about, and there will be singing soon. Songs that tell the old stories will drift on the wind, far from this one small place.
