tell me why there's Mother's Day
what sets the day apart
why should i give a flower bouquet
when i could give my heart

each rising sun and amber moon
through streams both wide and narrow
comes singing brave, a happy tune
a strong and gentle hero

so tell me why there's Mother's Day
one day's just like another
it's always been just child's play
to have you for my Mother

With sleep once more before me
My mind sought to implore me
In my wall the smallest crack
Why care were I to notice
An etched line of thinnest black
A flaw of the remotest
It hadn't been there yesterday
At least I think so anyway
I'm off at last to face my dreams
Of riddles, lies and brittle schemes
When morning pulls me from my bed
I'll put aside the evening's dread
That fissure in my bedroom wall
I may have conjured after all

Two old friends sit on a fence
With their cap in hand
Grateful for the odd few pence
Past dignity be ******
The future is their wistful past
Each month a day gone by
And when their time is up at last
They'll heave a grateful sigh
The tune is not yet over
Though weary do they stand
They'll rest in fields of clover
And lie in grains of sand

What are fingers, anyway
What gentle touch is missed
On any given anguished day
When lips cannot be kissed

What are hands for, anyway
If not for us to lend
To hold each other everyday
For strangers we befriend

What's a dream for, anyway
What nightmares must we reap
Till comes the morning of the day
We rise from peaceful sleep

I traveled to a land of trees
As summer turned to fall
I shivered in the biting breeze
That warned of winter's pall

I spoke to every tree I met
And every fallen leaf
The wind they said had not blown yet
Much so to their relief

They swayed together all as one
And shared a common fear
With roots so deep they could not run
As winter winds drew near

I tried to reassure my friends
Each year begins anew
The Earth will surely make amends
To every one of you

I spoke to what I knew of change
And what I knew of spring
But something in the air seemed strange
There tolled a plaintive ring

And then I saw what troubled me
In this dear painted wood
A plague infected every tree
Where once they proudly stood

When frequencies all around us get to singing
We don't hear frequencies
We hear music  
Even if discordant
When frequencies agree
We're blessed to hear the best angels of ourselves
When we hear the harmony
That renders us peaceful
And graced with balance
With Bach, the head translates life's frequencies to the heart
With Coltrane, the heart translates life's frequencies to the head.
We all hear music
No matter what path music may take to be heard.

when the next breath you take

could be evermore dire

when it's for your life's sake

to crawl through the barbed wire

out of the frying pan

and into the fire