…and a few friends…
…with Billy Stewart. One of the most unique versions of this standard you will ever hear.
Shouldn’t really do it but….we’re robbing Peter AND Paul to pay ourSELVES with a little vacation (!!!!!!). Closing the café for a week. Heading into the woods. So apologies ahead of time if I do not respond promptly to comments this week….
I can’t not move when I hear this.
See you on the fiddle-iddle-ip fiddle-ip fliddip-ip-ip-ip-flip side!
(...it seems that I DO remember how to post...) (...and I'm still remembering how to write poems...) (...wrote this just before my unplanned and inexplicable hiatus...) (...seemed an appropriate place to start back up...) (...I think I'm ready to do this again...) Words on pages, leaves in air I dreamed that all my words were in a book and the book was small but very thick and the book was lost for many years and i found the book in an empty place and when I took the book in my hands and tried to open it to read the words i had written there the pages crumbled into dust and all my words were lost again and i had to go out into the world and find them all again and all my words were dust and i tried to sweep them into a pile and i prayed there would be no wind and i prayed a door would not open or close in that empty place as i tried to gather my words to myself, as i tried to clean them up but my words were dust and my words were picked up by the wind and my words were aloft. They were in the air. They were all around me and they were blowing into the sky and they would not stop and they reached out to the furthest reaches of the atmosphere and even into space and they were carried on solar winds until time forgot what they were, until there were too many places they could be and too many things they could become and they became them all and they became dust and ash and leaves again.