Artwork by Gail Bradshaw
I touch the keys as Couperin would have me, lines drawn well, with grace and clarity, cadences firm as the granite shoreline, soft as morning light in the towering chestnut. This August day, as the sea runs high, pulled by the Sturgeon Moon, and the sun powers the Galeux pumpkins to new wanderings, I revel in the echoes of a Grand Age when reason and passion did not argue, beauty was all, delight supreme, imagination unbounded, art and science dwelling in resonant harmony.
A Friday gift. Thank you Patrick.