Like a heron, like a hawk I watch, in the most inquisitive of my moods, keith jarrett and his piano take me to the mountains, ocean waves, how did I say it so well the other day, the slush and splash of birth, non-ceasing ocean child making moves? Is this then the innocence you do not wish to lose? what thought is this you do not wish to grasp, what innocence is this you mourn, what infancy you do not wish revisited? what death you do not wish to die, what boom of what bombs you do not wish to remember? what alleyway, what heroine, what fight, what war against what cancer, what armament, what killing of what deer, invasive tree, what corn and field and soil, what poison, armed deal against what profit, sale’s tax, income, swimming pool, seed bank? what husband and what child, what wife what lover, what friend or enemy, what dirt you do not wish to turn? For the sake of a continued belief in your very own innocence? Is this then what you lost? Or is it a lot less complicated, a slight discomfort, a crooked tie, a shoe of not perfect fit, a spot in paint, a bit of rust, a stain, a child astray some care and management some distance and once again as wise as old as age and vintage wine as improvised as jazz piano play to be of innocence? Erica Weick 2003
the beautiful non predatorial nature of hawks…and of herons…
away from salvation, redemption, return, retrieval… taking a step back and watching the swirl…then improvising.
still loving the improvs of others and learning to love the much trickier improvs of my own…
Off in flight after reading this gem..
This is beautiful - and timeless.