A Look

If looks could kill, or save, or make you pee in your pants from laughing ... this could probably be one of those looks.

The Last Note

The beginning of a song is - in my opinion - the most enchanting part of music, like the beginning of a romance. With many of my favorite artists, from Train to Coldplay, Paramore to Alanis Morissette, the first few notes and the first uttered lyrics are what captures me. They pull me in, slowly and deeply, until I'm completely immersed. The notes weave in and out of one another, subtly including me in their design. All thanks to a deliciously cooked beginning.

But lately, I've begun to notice the end of songs more, or the lack thereof.

Well, how do you end a song, really? It may suddenly stop, the sharp silence more surprising than any noise. Or, the song may fade into the distance, repeating over and over for an implied eternity. Maybe the singer even whispers one last sentence in conclusion.

Honestly, I can't imagine ending a song in a way that seems right. I don't feel like a song should have an end. It could continue, changing and growing, leaving a trail to follow. I'm entranced, held by the notes, until they end. The music disappears, and I hold my breath, waiting for the next song, new music. It's like finishing a good book that I know has no sequel.

Maybe the ending bites me so because I know, somewhere that I don't often visit, that those stories the music tells, the feelings it reveals, never truly end.

The Beginning of an Adventure

As the dewy leaves drop water bit by little bit into the morning lake, I look out into the sky, at the growing blueness and brightness of morning. The beginning of the day.

The beginning of something is so incredibly beautiful and special, a sense of excitement at what's to come, a hopeful feeling that shivers in the damp air but holds firm.

So often we miss the beginning, preferring to sleep in late or rush through it completely.

But I love beginnings.

The beginning of summer: the first splash in the pool, the first waves of the beach, the first sting of sunburn, and the first afternoon thunderstorm, are as exciting as birthday presents. Why not? a birthday simply celebrates a beginning after all.

But now, summer's not what I'm looking for. Somewhere in the morning air, as I sit by the lake, I sense an adventure about to take place. A new adventure. A fantastic adventure. And I'm invited.

I treasure this moment, when no one knows but me. One day, my hard work will be noticed, my actions written, or my journey recorded, in the middle and end of my life.

But on this morning, only I can truly appreciate ... the beginning of the adventure.

A Bucket

He beats the bucket like a drum, and the rhythms cut through the pollen-filled air.

Music.

Notes that reach the ear of thousands. They pass by with their brief cases and black suits, their flashing cameras and sneakers, their eyes and ears drawn to the man who beats a bucket.

A Color

1

2

3

4

5

Five colors spilled out into the ocean.

Five colors crested a wave.

Five colors drank all the water in the world.

Five colors dug a graying grave.

Five colors only

Four colors smiled at the sunlight.

Four colors spoke to the moon.

Four colors milked the glowing way.

Four colors only

Three colors lay down under branches.

Three colors danced with the leaves.

Three colors only

Two colors hoped for something better

bitter

Two colors only

One color only saved the world. Red.