Today, the weather was gray. I woke up to a steady rain, one that
had played its tattoo all night against my windows.
The rain turned into a snow shower, which made the rough
skin on this tree seem more appropriate, as it turned
its resources inward to survive the coming winter.
I suppose we all need to develop a rough skin as we get older,
we need it to preserve our ideals and our dignity.
We need it to survive the small cruelties we see every day,
committed by those who would believe the
world they live in is black and white, without variations
and nuances in rhythm and color,
Thank god we all do not march to the same drummer.
Or the world would be flat gray every day.
3 comments:
A gnarly old man writes: Hoorah for the Tune Weavers. Thank you for a breakfast time treat, Speedway.
You're welcome, Dive. I was going for all tuba all the time, then I remembered this tune and - Lo and behold! There it was!
We have an organization at Bloomington called the Tuba Santas, that makes a wonderful warm and mellow sound when they play. I was hoping to find something nice by them but, nope, everything sounded weird. Also was hoping for some good tuba farts, but ended up with Toccata and Fugue in D minor, plus other bits. Oh, well, I guess I have to be happy with Bach and find a good fart another day.
How can anyone not be happy with Bach?
And yay tubas! I'm amazed that ensembles of the same instrument can make such wonderful sounds, be it tubas, saxophones, ukeleles, mandolins or whatever (I'll make an exception for massed ocarinas).
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