From The Pataphysician
Artwork by Gail Bradshaw
Before sunrise on this damp Fifth of May, our robins begin their trilling, cascading songs, endlessly varied patterns of deep melodic beauty evolved over millions of years. Playing along, hammers are not enough. Damper peddle down, I stroke my fingers over the open strings, welcoming the magical birds to join me in the cloud of shimmering harmony rushing out from under the piano lid into the early Spring fog. My invitation is declined.
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