There’s an enchanting place in John’s Creek (North Fulton county) called Autrey Mill Nature Preserve & Heritage Center – they’re starting a monthly acoustic series, and we’re thrilled and honored to be the first ones to play there on Saturday, January 24! Reception at 7, music at 8, and CD purchase/signing after. We’re so looking forward to it, and hope to see you there.
Snow-Flakes. Â (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Second)
Out of the bosom of the Air
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.
This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.