Moonlight Sonata

I stand in the garden watching a crescent moon hover above the tips of the fir trees.  The thrushes surge in their singing as they do at that twilight hour and the newly arrived swallows swirl about the eves. Music drifts out an open window and I realize it is my son playing piano.  Playing like I have never heard before. Teenage angst by way of Moonlight Sonata.  

I listen as he lands softly each note, pauses, then reaches for a crescendo.  Music wings like a message carried forward through centuries.  An unbearable sadness.  A piercing joy.  This is nothing I taught him – rather it rushes out of the riotous unpredictability of becoming.

I have my doubts about humans.  Maybe I shouldn’t admit this, but look how we’ve messed up.  Among other things – the latest United Nations Report on Climate Change offers irrefutable evidence that a mass extinction is under way.  Surely as the sunsets.  As the moon rises.  It is what I think about as I work in the garden.  That and the pandemic most likely born of human encroachment on the wild.

I listen to birds in their flurry, as their voices mingle with the sonata.  A new song it seems.  Or ancient as ever.  We have always been a billion species together, all of us worthy, our souls mingled in unknowable ways, capable of becoming who knows what opus.  What mighty grace.  What hope.

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Don Ostertag says:

    I hear your son’s music in your voice. I see the joys of nature in your words. I feel the message of hope in your blog. Thank you.

    1. Thank you for the kind words! Seems hope is what we need these days and music and nature sure seem to help

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s