the song is a long riff
played delicate like
at midnight in July
thundering when storms march
in battalions thumping polyrhythmic
oompahs
the song is improvised
over rumbles of a sliding scale
holding long notes that float
disarmingly
as water striders skating black splashes
where tumbled rocks wear green skirts
the song pulls wind into snarling trees
syncopating elements into a signature
timed
with layered passages of woods over brass
blue notes swimming down low
down there
in gravelgrinding undercurrents
eddying into echoes of echoes
of echoes
David Trudel © 2013
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