You inquire, is the feeling that I have for you strong enough,
enduring enough, wild enough to be called true love?
I respond, sadly enough, it must be declared but a fleeting fancy,
and not deep devotion.
Wind through reeds, sunlit marshes, fair winds and airs, melodious.
Harken still, listen with care, full harmony, polkas, waltzes,
Sonatas. Irrepressible accordion. Beauty soars.
Practice well. Bellows action controls volume. Play rhythmically.
With left hand, six major chords, six single notes. Right: melodies.
Once mastered, simple instrument opens a range of beauty.
Progress. Now, forty-eight bass. Deep harmony. Rangier tunes.
Explore more-folk, rag-time, swing, Duke Ellington, multiple hues.
Reach out to classical masters-- Beethoven, Brahms. Play the blues.
William Rufus King of England 1087-1100
Son of King William the Conqueror
At the door when I came home, there he sat, patient cat,
Tail aloft, green eyes twinkling, he shadowed me about the house,
where e're I went.
At midnight, me and my shadow both hit the hay. -- Up at dawn.
For breakfast much H2O, lightly poached egg, water again.
Late morning, elevenses, more liquid in, then liquid out.
In P.M. thirstiest of cats plays tag with twine. Not a whine.
By my feet, then near shoulder, Rufus snoozes contentedly.
Through the night snores now and then, a few me-ews; mostly peaceful.
In A.M. family members gladly greet him: Great Day, Rufe.
Contents of this page Copyright © 2008 by Richard V. E. McCann.