I Think Of It As Dancing

Miles Davis: Kind of Blue

...It drifts in
from somewhere far away--
a mirage of sound--
a dream music
that is both heard
and imagined;
that seems to be
both itself
and its own echo;
a sound so alluring
and so mesmeric
that the afternoon
is bewitched,
maybe haunted, by it.
And, what is so strange
about that memory
is that everybody seems
to be floating
on those sweet sounds,
moving rhythmically,
languorously,
in complete isolation;

responding more
to the mood of the music
than to its beat.
When I remember it,
I think of it as dancing.
Dancing with
eyes half closed
because to open them
would break the spell.
Dancing as if language
had surrendered to movement--
as if this ritual,
this wordless ceremony,
was now the way to speak,
to whisper private
and sacred things,
to be in touch
with some otherness.
Dancing as if
the very heart of life
and all its hopes
might be found
in those assuaging notes and those hushed rhythms
and in those silent and hypnotic movements.
Dancing as if language no longer existed
because words were no longer necessary...
--Brian Friel

Grant Green: My One and Only Love

CHEYAVA FALLS
COTTONWOOD CANYON
ROYAL ARCH CREEK
TWO FROM BEHIND RIBBON FALLS