One day, Uncle Al
Walked up the hill to his studio.
Dreamily, composing, he looked up—
A cloud, and nothing else in a blue sky.

A cloud; a quarter rest!

          He stopped,           took a one-beat rest.

                                                   Allowed
                                              in pause
                                    & further
                           instructions
         from the sky.
                        Sighed,
                             took a step,
                             went on
                         with the
                    music
               of his
            life.

UNCLE AL’S CLOUDSCAPE II

TAKE TWO:

A cat’s cradle of music finger-weaves the sky.
The bright wind lifts us from the depths,
          carries us,
          cradles us in this taught stringing of days.
The clouds know the ocean,
it repeats the rocking motion.
Remember to breathe.
          Each step up,
          each thought takes us toward the summit.
The interior of the heart, of the eye,
is related to the weaving grasses.
We are kites tugging the wind,
our arms, wings of angels.

Tell us, tell us, tell us:
          climb up,
          climb the mountains of the sky.
We are flying to the mountains of the sky.
Take us up,
          push
               our legs
                      down into earth.
Take us up,
           so that we may grow
                     back down to the ground.

UNCLE AL’S CLOUDSCAPE III

TAKE THREE:

Three notes occlude the distance the ear takes
in knowing the melody of night.
Uncle Al referees
                              the sky

arranging clouds to fit the composition.
Ask about harmony and structure.
A composer composes the sky
with a beatific hand to the clouds,
orchestrating the rest stops and black notes
and the wings of cherubs wait their cue.

He wears a gioconda smile as clouds direct the score.

Take a one beat rest. Live in the now
for now is all that there is.