Gary's Musings

The Long Lonely Note

Perched cliff side

At the precipice of land and frantic sea

The craggy granite face on which I stand

Collides and Ignites white burst all about me

And my precarious hanging home

Laden with mantle of stone

Becomes a vulnerable reverberating bunker

As I pray it not fall asunder


Seaward I peer over the gray witches work

And the Tempest becomes me

Menacing whirlpools and sinister sea swirls

Its swollen surly mood

Its ire and wrath    

Pouring through me in torrents of untold emotion

Promoted by the Sea’s ceaseless commotion

As the swift gale skips the usual mollifying metaphors of the rain

Nothing soothing

Nothing settling

No echoes of escalating droplets pelting the tin roof

No rhythmic shutters slamming

No time for thoughtful contemplation

Nor evocation of broken romantic memories

Until I turn the volume right!


And while shards of the pouring darkened sky and sea

Shred and assault thee in sideways fury

I become encased in the Jazz Master’s saucy reverie

Where mind and mood meld and morph

Straight to a lingering state of melancholy

As I invert and postulate the ‘Green into the Blue’

And conclude that the storm will pass to verdant pastures anew

In unison with the long lonely note

Of Mile’s muted trumpet….