QUICK WINGS

Pablo Neruda asks darkly, "Do you believe that ahead of you grief carries the flag of your destiny?" In some old stories destiny was carried in the mouth of a fish, a glass slipper or a streetcar named desire. Remember the blind street vendor in "Stones for Ibarra"? He sold lottery tickets. He waved them against the sky and said, "Here is your future. Here in my hand."

Mary O wants to know, "What happens to the singing birds when they can't sing anymore? What happens to their quick wings?" Such difficult questions for this gloomy morning. Yesterday these trees were full of singing birds but their quick wings have carried them away.

Verlyn K saw "the way the season swells within us."

In PM Mel and I off to the Rief in Grand Rapids to hear the Vienna Boys Choir - Shubert Choir. It was quite lovely from first note to last. The choir leader is from Peru and seemed naturally warm and respectful toward the boys. It happened that such concerts had been reserved for royalty. Now they are here in Grand Rapids singing for a less than regal group which included at least one Ojibwe grandmother. A white moth danced over us. From lamp to lamp it fluttered.

Behind closed eyes I savored The rise and fall of young voices Swelled against expanding walls And high to heaven ceiling. Around me a thousand hands Burst into exuberant applause. A small white moth With wings too thin to shadow The bright faces below, Fluttered from lamp to lamp Dancing her silent tribute To Mozart, Shubert and Icochea.