September’s turning (photo essay with music)

The summer slate is clean.

Two more turns and cool air streams to the touch. Coolness everywhere, the fluff forms filling September skies, speed tests whizzing by, running fluidly, the whites, greys, blues filling the heart, mind’s clear where now to go?…

…Sleet is far but cool dew forms easily on plants now allowed to freely grow.  Trapped inside, the rusted key, broken record, sounds of tinsel and mashed potato with poetry’s faint song bringing us out of dumb doldrums, silence cuts joy, tinnitus cuts silence…

Toward Infinity, (by Stephen Horenstein, Lior Navok, with Jeffery Kowalsky /The Butterfly Effect Ensemble, from The Natives are Restless, JICM Recordings)

…The turning of September is all too fast, summer turns slow-paced, refreshing winds meld with tree tingles, perky, branching dances float ecstasy, thousands of leaves finally dancing, jigs, jollied from time-worn summer cushions, parched throats, bad blood, tired energy sporting a neighborhood’s dogs’ incessant barks, no matter, no matter at all….

Pizz Pazz  (composed by the Author) Pizzicato strings and other instruments.

…behold! the school season, the fur time, out time, quick time spouting lurid tales about what winter will want, when, no longer standing, we extend our fall, falling over, forward, backwards, braced but still falling, a deep sadness of fall moods, as far as the eye can feel…

then, looking inward, a new journey without clock time, a journey tingling with tough branches, new year’s penance, when mind, body are one, deaf to damped out from arguments, yells, dissonant spinning, infinite distances, discomfort, stepping of toes, not loving, heat stroke, no go, building slow, fading… far far away, searching bliss, touch, embrace…in the mirror…a stranger. It’s the season, that’s the reason…

….for a long journey’s ahead, far-flung, riding on speed-breaking clouds, flight cases, chorale music, far away, healing.  Clouds gather “sheepily”, silently racing across blue-black fields, cutting light clumps gathering in “mistful” trails, crying “it’s September”….

…the winds churning, waking, arousing.  Tinny balalaikas, reedy flutes, sinewy sounds, a different parade, distant touchings, timely tracks of a silent tale…

…but now, gather around the campfire.  There’s more. Turn toward the wall and stand in silence.  Remember what you did yesterday (if you can). The past fades, the future not.

The music continues into the night, while strange reflections appear in the September morning, clear, crisp, fast moving shudders, new blue territory….unforgettable (until next Fall).

from Circus, (Sound painting/composition by Stephen Horenstein)