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PROGRAM NOTES
In memory of my mother, Dorothy Georgian Danner
Poetry by Kim Rich
I. Harmonia Mundi
The open throats of tree arise like an anthem from the earth
Singing their deep-toned ostinato against the briefer songs of leaves
There! Below the green whisper
There! Below the soft rasp of twigs
Hear their resonance in resigned chants of eloquence
Slow low-voiced hymns one hundred year one thousand year
Hosannahs wrung from buried roots in silent ground.
II. Spinning Jenny
The single thread between my fingers smooth spinning flowing easy alone
The single thread between my fingers each day’s portion neatly spun!
A single thread only no double threads twining in woven patterns and fragile designs.
A single thread lonely but see how it flies from the wheel to the reel in one cool seamless line.
Oh the knots and the tangles, they come now and then
Even a single thread won't run smooth from heart's start to its end.
But with only a single thread to unravel how quick a tangle mends!
The single thread between my fingers smooth spinning flowing easy alone
The single thread between my fingers
Slowing, slowing, this day's task is done!
To an Old Lion
Old lion will you leave while your coughing roar still echoes in our ears.
I am only another scavenger at the feast you provided,
Thinking more of the meat between my own sharp teeth
Than of how empty our jungle will be without you.
Old lion (empty) (jungle)
Old lion (without) (you).
The Art of Tuning
Don't ask if I'm in tune with the times or I won't be
It takes all my concentration just to try to stay on key.
Don't ask if I'm in tune with the times don't ask
Oh quiet, quiet please!
These constant fine adjustments to the key take all my concentration to make
And I can either tune or reply.
Don't ask if I'm in tune with the times or I won't be
Tune and retune and then tune again the single note forever judged against what it ought to be.
No time for nuance or melody and just forget about harmony.
Don't ask if I'm in tune with the times
Don't ask!
V. Boreade
Time, come capture the wind in your round wine skin again.
These rough wild vintages of winter summer spring and fall are being served in all the wrong seasons.
INSTRUMENTATION
Soprano Voice
Bb Clarinet
Piano
