Oak, Son, Skye, Thunder & Boise

Tues AM
Sunny morning again after rain showers last night. The world is
turning green. Only the oaks are holding back now. Like stubborn old
men, they refuse to feel the warmth of the sun, although I'm sure if
you were to look closer you'd see the buds of rebirth beginning. Even
those curmudgeons can't resist the wiles of May.

Tues Noon
Son Rivers dropped by again today and wanted to play a love song for
his lady Skye (of the Shire of Beverly). This time he admitted it wasn't a traditional tune, but one of several he has been working on for a new album to be named "Later." He played this on a 12 string, although he admitted he may substitute a lute in later.

For Skye

I'm not an oak you know; you're not
exactly like a willow, yet
your capability to weep
reveals a sympathy with breezes

I can only wonder at.
Not that crying is your only
attraction—oh, there's show enough
to shade my eyes and go beneath

the sky with you, and that's for sure.
But when the land is tracked in black
with homebound traffic never ceasing
it's pleasing that I know the earth

grows wild within your grounded heart,
sheltered from those selfish ways.
It's where I stay these days when all
the world is busy keeping house.

~Son Rivers 2005

Tues PM
As for old Son's craftsmanship, I'll leave you with this Dylan Thomas quote I poached from Ivy today: "The best craftsmanship always leaves holes and gaps... so that something that is not in the poem can creep, crawl, flash or thunder in."

As for artistic merit, here's this Harper's Index notation I'm borrowing
from Jeffery this time: "The Boise city council recently banned nudity
in public unless it had "serious artistic merit", and one local strip
club started handing out sketch pads and pencils."

.
.
.
.

So I left some sketchy space up there, but you'll have to supply your own pencils.