Dawn Chorus Quotes

Hail the sun! the brightest of all that ever Dawned on the City of Seven Gates, City of Thebes! Hail the golden dawn over Dirce's river Rising to speed the flight of the white invaders Homeward in full retreat!" - Chorus

The fading dawn colors revive momentarily, and the sky shines with lilac and daffodil, layering colors in clouds like quilts stacked on a bed. More birds chime into the morning air: a nuthatch’s nasal onk joins the crow’s croak and a black-throated green warbler’s murmur from the branches above the mandala. As the colors finally fade under the fierce gaze of their mother, the sun, a wood thrush caps the dawn chorus with his astounding song. The song seems to pierce through from another world, carrying with it clarity and ease, purifying me for a few moments with its grace. Then the song is gone, the veil closes, and I am left with embers of memory.

It was one of those places where mist lingers well into the day and the dawn chorus starts early.

Suddenly the Doctor heard the greatest sound in the universe, more delightful than the dawn chorus, more lovely than the laughter of children, more sweet than the mountain stream. It was the wheezing, groaning sound of the relative dimensional stabiliser of a Type 40 TARDIS in materialisation mode.

As the seasons age us I close my eyes and wish for snow Alas the Irish seasons been foretold For Spring will dawn and I will go Into another season Jack Frost cold. And when its here, I wish for night As childhood memories flash right by To see the birds in humble flight I wish for Summer with a sigh And on I go to months so sweet Dawns sweet chorus and sunbeams bright I yearn for Autumn leaves under feet Yet now I dream of Winters night As Auld Lang Syne rings in New Year Alas! I’m one year older as Spring draws near.

Between the roof of the shed and the big plant that hangs over the fence from the house next door I could see the constellation Orion. People say that Orion is called Orion because Orion was a hunter and the constellation looks like a hunter with a club and a bow and arrow, like this: But this is really silly because it is just stars, and you could join up the dots in any way you wanted, and you could make it look like a lady with an umbrella who is waving, or the coffeemaker which Mrs. Shears has, which is from Italy, with a handle and steam coming out, or like a dinosaur. And there aren't any lines in space, so you could join bits of Orion to bits of Lepus or Taurus or Gemini and say that they were a constellation called the Bunch of Grapes or Jesus or the Bicycle (except that they didn't have bicycles in Roman and Greek times, which was when they called Orion Orion). And anyway, Orion is not a hunter or a coffeemaker or a dinosaur. It is just Betelgeuse and Bellatrix and Alnilam and Rigel and 17 other stars I don't know the names of. And they are nuclear explosions billions of miles away. And that is the truth. I stayed awake until 5:47. That was the last time I looked at my watch before I fell asleep. It has a luminous face and lights up if you press a button, so I could read it in the dark. I was cold and I was frightened Father might come out and find me. But I felt safer in the garden because I was hidden. I looked at the sky a lot. I like looking up at the sky in the garden at night. In summer I sometimes come outside at night with my torch and my planisphere, which is two circles of plastic with a pin through the middle. And on the bottom is a map of the sky and on top is an aperture which is an opening shaped in a parabola and you turn it round to see a map of the sky that you can see on that day of the year from the latitude 51.5° north, which is the latitude that Swindon is on, because the largest bit of the sky is always on the other side of the earth. And when you look at the sky you know you are looking at stars which are hundreds and thousands of light-years away from you. And some of the stars don't even exist anymore because their light has taken so long to get to us that they are already dead, or they have exploded and collapsed into red dwarfs. And that makes you seem very small, and if you have difficult things in your life it is nice to think that they are what is called negligible, which means that they are so small you don't have to take them into account when you are calculating something. I didn't sleep very well because of the cold and because the ground was very bumpy and pointy underneath me and because Toby was scratching in his cage a lot. But when I woke up properly it was dawn and the sky was all orange and blue and purple and I could hear birds singing, which is called the Dawn Chorus. And I stayed where I was for another 2 hours and 32 minutes, and then I heard Father come into the garden and call out, "Christopher...? Christopher...?

It’s a cold summer morning with the dawn chorus in full swing. The sun is beginning to rise above still-sleepy London town. People stir in their beds, hoping that it is not yet time to get up, wishing for a few more minutes of peace. They cling onto loved ones, feel their warmth and try to settle back to sleep whilst alarm clocks limber up, getting ready to play their tunes.

Whatever may be your desire to accomplish great deeds, the deep silence of pregnancy never comes to you! The event of the day sweeps you along like straws before the wind whilst ye lie under the illusion that ye are chasing the event,—poor fellows! If a man wishes to act the hero on the stage he must not think of forming part of the chorus; he should not even know how the chorus is made up.

He went along the corridor to the tiny spare room at the back of the house and looked down into the gardens below. The dawn chorus had begun, and he could see blackbirds, and small hedge-hopping sparrows, a single spotted-breasted thrush in the boughs of a nearby tree. Fat Charlie thought that a world in which birds sang in the morning was a normal world, a sensible world, a world he didn’t mind being a part of.

Avoiding Shipwreck Let me emblazon your name upon The blue sky, because I love you. I wish to please you, In any way, as many ways as I can…. I will etch your name into the sand, Because I adore you. I shall conduct the early birds dawn chorus, Because you make MY heart sing just so. I want you and I to sit And watch the sun come up, Creating that warm glow that you emit, Because you love me.

There was once a town in the heart of America where all life seemed to live in harmony with its surroundings. The town lay in the midst of a checkerboard of prosperous farms, with fields of grain and hillsides of orchards where, in spring, white clouds of bloom drifted above the green fields. In autumn, oak and maple and birch set up a blaze of color that flamed and flickered across a backdrop of pines. Then foxes barked in the hills and deer silently crossed the fields, half hidden in the mists of the fall mornings. Along the roads, laurel, viburnum, and alder, great ferns and wildflowers delighted the traveler's eye through much of the year. Even in winter the roadsides were places of beauty, where countless birds came to feed on the berries and on the seed heads of the dried weeds rising above the snow. The countryside was, in fact, famous for the abundance and variety of its bird life, and when the flood of migrants was pouring through in spring and fall people traveled from great distances to observe them. Others came to fish the streams, which flowed clear and cold out of the hills and contained shady pools where trout lay. So it had been from the days many years ago when the first settlers raised their homes, sank their wells, and built their barns. Then a strange blight crept over the area and everything began to change. Some evil spell had settled on the community: mysterious maladies swept the flocks of chickens, the cattle, and sheep sickened and died. Everywhere was a shadow of death. The farmers spoke of much illness among their families. In the town the doctors had become more and more puzzled by new kinds of sickness appearing among their patients. There had been sudden and unexplained deaths, not only among adults but even among children whoe would be stricken suddently while at play and die within a few hours. There was a strange stillness. The birds, for example--where had they gone? Many people spoke of them, puzzled and disturbed. The feeding stations in the backyards were deserted. The few birds seen anywhere were moribund; they trembled violently and could not fly. It was a spring without voices. On the mornings that had once throbbed with the dawn chorus of robins, catbirds, doves, jays, wrens, and scores of other bird voices there was no sound; only silence lay over the fields and woods and marsh. On the farms the hens brooded, but no chicks hatched. The farmers complained that they were unable to raise any pigs--the litters were small and the young survived only a few days. The apple trees were coming into bloom but no bees droned among the blossoms, so there was no pollination and there would be no fruit. The roadsides, once so attractive, were now lined with browned and withered vegetation as though swept by fire. These, too, were silent, deserted by all living things. Even the streams were not lifeless. Anglers no longer visited them, for all the fish had died. In the gutters under the eaves and between the shingles of the roofs, a white granular powder still showed a few patches; some weeks before it had fallen like snow upon the roofs and the lawns, the fields and streams. No witchcraft, no enemy action had silenced the rebirth of life in this stricken world. The people had done it to themselves.

This whole theater of great tit socio-sexual opportunities, threats, decisions, and interactions is played out during the dawn chorus, when territorial males are flitting about nervously, loudly broadcasting their “dee-du” calls, and meanwhile keeping an eye on their own females and on rival males, as well as ogling female neighbors.

As our ship tumbled, free-falling through the eye of a saltwater cyclone, the nine giant maidens spiraled around us, weaving in and out of the tempest so they appeared to drown over and over again. Their faces contorted in anger and glee. Their long hair lashed us with icy spray. Each time they emerged, they wailed and shrieked, but it wasn’t just random noise. Their screams had a tonal quality, like a chorus of whale songs played through heavy feedback. I even caught snippets of lyrics: boiling mead...wave daughters...death for you! It reminded me of the first time Halfborn Gunderson played Norwegian black metal for me. After a few bars, it dawned on me...Oh, wait. That’s supposed to be music!

I wished he would hold me. I wished I could bear it.

Warden, please don't dissuade me from the solitary mote of joy I have left in my tragedy of a life. I'm being hunted by a tyrant, my entire family is missing or dead, and I'm fresh out of the torture chamber. Please, just let me enjoy my coffee.

I am nothing--nothing--nothing. She was clinging to that, she found, as to a sort of anchor, because it kept her from having to face the terrible possibility that God Himself was not, and the realization of God's nothingness would be the final horror that could not be borne. Yet as time passed she knew that that possibility, too, must be faced. She must let go of the very last thing left her, the knowledge of her own nothingness, and face it. And she let go, and looked around for God and did not find Him; and then there was nothing, except the dark night. But there was the dark night. Very slowly she became conscious of it, and then she found that she was hugging it to her, wrapping herself in it as though it were a cloak to hide her in this hour of her humiliation. For a long while the night was all that she had, and then suddenly, like a sword stabbing the darkness, came a trill of music. It was a bird welcoming the dawn. That, too, was added. She drew back one of the curtains of her bed and saw a patch of grey light where the window was. That also. During the hours of the night she had been completely stripped, and now one by one a few things were being handed to her for the clothing of her naked, shivering, humiliated soul. For a few things one must have to make one decent if one was to step forth again upon the highway. For that, obviously, impossible though the task seemed to her at this moment, was what she had to do as soon as the full day came, because there wasn't anything else that she could do. She had to go on living and serving, with the living and serving stripped of all pleasure...But there would be something. There would be darkness and light, night and day, both sweet things, and music linking them together. The full glory of the dawn chorus seemed all about her...it was full day by the time she pulled back the muslin curtains that covered her window and flung it wide and leaned out, the scent of the spring earth rushing up to meet her. That also was given back...By whom?

Water began to drip steadily through the dormer window. Outside, in the treacherous city, a thaw had come, giving the streets the unreliable consistency of wet cardboard. Slow masses of whiteness slid from sloping, grey-slate roofs. The footprints of delivery vans corrugated the slush. First light; and the dawn chorus began, chattering of road-drills, chirrup of burglar alarms, trumpeting of wheeled creatures clashing at corners, the deep whirr of a large olive-green garbage eater, screaming radio-voices from a wooden painter's cradle clinging to the upper storey of a Free House, roar of the great wakening juggernauts rushing awesomely down this long but narrow pathway. From beneath the earth came tremors denoting the passage of huge subterranean worms that devoured and regurgitated human beings, and from the skies the thrum of choppers and the screech of higher, gleaming birds.

When longing overtook them, they drew together and made the most intense and tender love Sarah had ever known. She was a freshly exposed nerve in the bleeding heart of Christ. He was devout in his reverent passion as her healer. Their love was a hallelujah chorus, a quiet prayer of exaltation, a holy union in the moonlight before dawn. It was here in this crystalline space that Sarah and Johnny took each other the true way to God, or they found God in each other, whichever it was.

There’s fifty of us and more here with weapons in our fists.” “Hear him, hear him,” came the chorus. “That’s our Chief. You can depend on what he says. He’s telling you the truth, he is.” “I do not see these fifty warriors,” observed Reepicheep. “That’s right, that’s right,” said the Chief Voice. “You don’t see us. And why not? Because we’re invisible.” “Keep it up, Chief, keep it up,” said the Other Voices. “You’re talking like a book. They couldn’t ask for a better answer than that.

A Summer's Singing" "Where does that singing start, you know, that thin sound—almost pure light? Not the birds at false dawn or their song when morning comes, feathered throats warm with meaning. A different kind of music. Listen, it is somewhere near you. In the heart, emptied of fear, stubbornly in love with itself at last, the old desires a ruined chorus, a radiant bloody choir. Where does the singing start? Here, where you are, there’s room between your heartbeats, as if everything you have ever been begins, inside, to sing.

Tenting Tonight on the Old Camp Ground” We’re tenting tonight on the old camp ground; Give us a song to cheer Our weary hearts, a song of home, And friends we love so dear. (Chorus) Many are the hearts that are weary tonight, Wishing for the war to cease; Many are the hearts looking for the right To see the dawn of peace. Tenting tonight, tenting tonight, Tenting on the old camp ground. We’ve been tenting tonight on the old camp ground, Thinking of days gone by, Of the loved ones at home that gave us the hand And the tear that said, “Good-bye!

Together with an elderly artist (I regret that I don't remember his name) he occupied a separate room in the barracks. And there Yuri painted for nothing schmaltzy pictures such as Nero's Feast and the Chorus of Elves and the like for the German officers on the commandant's staff. In return, he was given food. The slops for which the POW officers stood in line with their mess tins from 6 a.m. on, while the Ordners beat them with sticks and the cooks with ladles, were not enough to sustain life. At evening, Yuri could see from the windows of their room the one and only picture for which his artistic talent had been given him: the evening mist hovering above a swampy meadow encircled by barbed wire; a multitude of bonfires; and, around the bonfires, beings who had once been Russian officers but had now become beastlike creatures who gnawed the bones of dead horses, who baked patties from potato rinds, who smoked manure and were all swarming with lice. Not all those two-legged creatures had died as yet. Not all of them had yet lost the capacity for intelligible speech, and one could see in the crimson reflections of the bonfires how a belated understanding was dawning on those faces which were descending to the Neanderthal.

She caught the old man napping, that little girl did,” said the Chief Monopod. “We’ve beaten him this time.” “Just what we were going to say ourselves,” chimed the chorus. “You’re going stronger than ever today, Chief. Keep it up, keep it up.” “But do they dare to talk about you like that?” said Lucy. “They seemed to be so afraid of you yesterday. Don’t they know you might be listening?” “That’s one of the funny things about the Duffers,” said the Magician. “One minute they talk as if I ran everything and overheard everything and was extremely dangerous. The next moment they think they can take me in by tricks that a baby would see through--bless them!

He remembered an old tale which his father was fond of telling him—the story of Eos Amherawdur (the Emperor Nightingale). Very long ago, the story began, the greatest and the finest court in all the realms of faery was the court of the Emperor Eos, who was above all the kings of the Tylwydd Têg, as the Emperor of Rome is head over all the kings of the earth. So that even Gwyn ap Nudd, whom they now call lord over all the fair folk of the Isle of Britain, was but the man of Eos, and no splendour such as his was ever seen in all the regions of enchantment and faery. Eos had his court in a vast forest, called Wentwood, in the deepest depths of the green-wood between Caerwent and Caermaen, which is also called the City of the Legions; though some men say that we should rather name it the city of the Waterfloods. Here, then, was the Palace of Eos, built of the finest stones after the Roman manner, and within it were the most glorious chambers that eye has ever seen, and there was no end to the number of them, for they could not be counted. For the stones of the palace being immortal, they were at the pleasure of the Emperor. If he had willed, all the hosts of the world could stand in his greatest hall, and, if he had willed, not so much as an ant could enter into it, since it could not be discerned. But on common days they spread the Emperor's banquet in nine great halls, each nine times larger than any that are in the lands of the men of Normandi. And Sir Caw was the seneschal who marshalled the feast; and if you would count those under his command—go, count the drops of water that are in the Uske River. But if you would learn the splendour of this castle it is an easy matter, for Eos hung the walls of it with Dawn and Sunset. He lit it with the sun and moon. There was a well in it called Ocean. And nine churches of twisted boughs were set apart in which Eos might hear Mass; and when his clerks sang before him all the jewels rose shining out of the earth, and all the stars bent shining down from heaven, so enchanting was the melody. Then was great bliss in all the regions of the fair folk. But Eos was grieved because mortal ears could not hear nor comprehend the enchantment of their song. What, then, did he do? Nothing less than this. He divested himself of all his glories and of his kingdom, and transformed himself into the shape of a little brown bird, and went flying about the woods, desirous of teaching men the sweetness of the faery melody. And all the other birds said: "This is a contemptible stranger." The eagle found him not even worthy to be a prey; the raven and the magpie called him simpleton; the pheasant asked where he had got that ugly livery; the lark wondered why he hid himself in the darkness of the wood; the peacock would not suffer his name to be uttered. In short never was anyone so despised as was Eos by all the chorus of the birds. But wise men heard that song from the faery regions and listened all night beneath the bough, and these were the first who were bards in the Isle of Britain.

A lady known as Paris, Romantic and Charming Has left her old companions and faded from view Lonely men with lonely eyes are seeking her in vain Her streets are where they were, but there's no sign of her She has left the Seine The last time I saw Paris, her heart was warm and gay, I heard the laughter of her heart in every street café The last time I saw Paris, her trees were dressed for spring, And lovers walked beneath those trees and birds found songs to sing. I dodged the same old taxicabs that I had dodged for years. The chorus of their squeaky horns was music to my ears. The last time I saw Paris, her heart was warm and gay, No matter how they change her, I'll remember her that way. I'll think of happy hours, and people who shared them Old women, selling flowers, in markets at dawn Children who applauded, Punch and Judy in the park And those who danced at night and kept our Paris bright 'til the town went dark.

Christmas In India Dim dawn behind the tamerisks -- the sky is saffron-yellow -- As the women in the village grind the corn, And the parrots seek the riverside, each calling to his fellow That the Day, the staring Easter Day is born. Oh the white dust on the highway! Oh the stenches in the byway! Oh the clammy fog that hovers And at Home they're making merry 'neath the white and scarlet berry -- What part have India's exiles in their mirth? Full day begind the tamarisks -- the sky is blue and staring -- As the cattle crawl afield beneath the yoke, And they bear One o'er the field-path, who is past all hope or caring, To the ghat below the curling wreaths of smoke. Call on Rama, going slowly, as ye bear a brother lowly -- Call on Rama -- he may hear, perhaps, your voice! With our hymn-books and our psalters we appeal to other altars, And to-day we bid "good Christian men rejoice!" High noon behind the tamarisks -- the sun is hot above us -- As at Home the Christmas Day is breaking wan. They will drink our healths at dinner -- those who tell us how they love us, And forget us till another year be gone! Oh the toil that knows no breaking! Oh the Heimweh, ceaseless, aching! Oh the black dividing Sea and alien Plain! Youth was cheap -- wherefore we sold it. Gold was good -- we hoped to hold it, And to-day we know the fulness of our gain. Grey dusk behind the tamarisks -- the parrots fly together -- As the sun is sinking slowly over Home; And his last ray seems to mock us shackled in a lifelong tether. That drags us back how'er so far we roam. Hard her service, poor her payment -- she is ancient, tattered raiment -- India, she the grim Stepmother of our kind. If a year of life be lent her, if her temple's shrine we enter, The door is hut -- we may not look behind. Black night behind the tamarisks -- the owls begin their chorus -- As the conches from the temple scream and bray. With the fruitless years behind us, and the hopeless years before us, Let us honor, O my brother, Christmas Day! Call a truce, then, to our labors -- let us feast with friends and neighbors, And be merry as the custom of our caste; For if "faint and forced the laughter," and if sadness follow after, We are richer by one mocking Christmas past.

When he was sixteen (1923), Peter got a job as copy boy on a New York tabloid and entered a saltier, more hard-bitten world. It was a roaring, lush, lousy tabloid. Everybody was drunk all the time. The managing editor hired girl reporters on condition they sleep with him. New staffs moved in and were mowed down like the Light Brigade. Chorus girls, debutantes, and widows suspected of murdering their husbands were perched on desks with their thighs showing to be photographed. An endless parade of cranks, freaks, ministers, actresses, and politicians moved through the big babbling room, day and night. The city editor went crazy one afternoon. So did his successor. And among the typewriters and the paste pots and the thighs, Peter walked with simple delight. A young reporter took a liking to him, found he was homeless, and insisted he share an elegant bachelor apartment uptown. There were constant parties, starting at dawn and ending as the hush of twilight settled over the city. People went to work and went to parties until they got the two pursuits confused and never noticed the difference. Whisky was oxygen, women were furniture, thinking was masochism.

There’s fifty of us and more here with weapons in our fists.” “Hear him, hear him,” came the chorus. “That’s our Chief. You can depend on what he says. He’s telling you the truth, he is.” “I do not see these fifty warriors,” observed Reepicheep. “That’s right, that’s right,” said the Chief Voice. “You don’t see us. And why not? Because we’re invisible.” “Keep it up, Chief, keep it up,” said the Other Voices. “You’re talking like a book. They couldn’t ask for a better answer than that.” “Be quiet, Reep,” said Caspian, and then added in a louder voice, “You invisible people, what do you want with us? And what have we done to earn your enmity?” “We want something that little girl can do for us,” said the Chief Voice. (The others explained that this was just what they would have said themselves.) “Little girl!” said Reepicheep. “The lady is a queen.” “We don’t know about queens,” said the Chief Voice. (“No more we do, no more we do,” chimed in the others.) “But we want something she can do.” “What is it?” said Lucy. “And if it is anything against her Majesty’s honor or safety,” added Reepicheep, “you will wonder to see how many we can kill before we die.” “Well,” said the Chief Voice. “It’s a long story. Suppose we all sit down?” The proposal was warmly approved by the other voices but the Narnians remained standing.

was dog-tired when, a little before dawn, the boatswain sounded his pipe and the crew began to man the capstan-bars. I might have been twice as weary, yet I would not have left the deck, all was so new and interesting to me—the brief commands, the shrill note of the whistle, the men bustling to their places in the glimmer of the ship's lanterns. "Now, Barbecue, tip us a stave," cried one voice. "The old one," cried another. "Aye, aye, mates," said Long John, who was standing by, with his crutch under his arm, and at once broke out in the air and words I knew so well: "Fifteen men on the dead man's chest—" And then the whole crew bore chorus:— "Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!" And at the third "Ho!" drove the bars before them with a will. Even at that exciting moment it carried me back to the old Admiral Benbow in a second, and I seemed to hear the voice of the captain piping in the chorus. But soon the anchor was short up; soon it was hanging dripping at the bows; soon the sails began to draw, and the land and shipping to flit by on either side; and before I could lie down to snatch an hour of slumber the HISPANIOLA had begun her voyage to the Isle of Treasure. I am not going to relate that voyage in detail. It was fairly prosperous. The ship proved to be a good ship, the crew were capable seamen, and the captain thoroughly understood his business. But before we came the length of Treasure Island, two or three things had happened which require to be known. Mr. Arrow, first of all, turned out even worse than the captain had feared. He had no command among the men, and people did what they pleased with him. But that was by no means the worst of it, for after a day or two at sea he began to appear on deck with hazy eye, red cheeks, stuttering tongue, and other marks of drunkenness. Time after time he was ordered below in disgrace. Sometimes he fell and cut himself; sometimes he lay all day long in his little bunk at one side of the companion; sometimes for a day or two he would be almost sober and attend to his work at least passably. In the meantime, we could never make out where he got the drink. That was the ship's mystery. Watch him as we pleased, we could do nothing to solve it; and when we asked him to his face, he would only laugh if he were drunk, and if he were sober deny solemnly that he ever tasted anything but water. He was not only useless as an officer and a bad influence amongst the men, but it was plain that at this rate he must soon kill himself outright, so nobody was much surprised, nor very sorry, when one dark night, with a head sea, he disappeared entirely and was seen no more. "Overboard!" said the captain. "Well, gentlemen, that saves the trouble of putting him in irons." But there we were, without a mate; and it was necessary, of course, to advance one of the men. The boatswain, Job Anderson, was the likeliest man aboard, and though he kept his old title,

THE RETURN OF THE GODS Like a white bird upon the wind, the sail of the boat of Manannan mac Lir (Pronounced Mananarn mak Leer), the Son of the Sea, flew across the sparkling waves filled with the breeze that blew Westward to the Islands of the Blessed. The Sun Goddess above him smiled down with warmth upon her friend. The fish in the ocean danced for him beneath the turquoise water; the porpoises leapt above the waves to greet him. Upon the wind was a smell of sweetness, the smell of apple blossom in the Spring of the morning of the world. And in the prow of the boat sat Lugh (Pronounced Loo) the long-armed; strumming on his harp, he sang the Song of Creation. And as they drew closer to the green hills of Ireland, the holy land of Ireland, the Shee came out of their earth-barrow homes and danced for joy beneath the Sun. For hidden in a crane-skin sack at the bottom of the boat was the Holy Cup of Blessedness. Long had been her journeying through lands strange and far. And all who drank of that Cup, dreamed the dreams of holy truth, and drank of the Wine of everlasting life. And deep within the woods, in a green-clad clearing, where the purple anemone and the white campion bloomed, where primroses still lingered on the shadowed Northern side, a great stag lifted up his antlered head and sniffed the morning. His antlers seven-forked spoke of mighty battles fought and won, red was his coat, the colour of fire, and he trotted out of his greenwood home, hearing on the wind the song of Lugh. And in her deep barrow home, the green clad Goddess of Erin, remembered the tongue that she had forgotten. She remembered the secrets of the weaving of spells, She remembered the tides of woman and the ebb and flow of wave and Moon. She remembered the people who had turned to other Gods and coming out of her barrow of sleep, her sweet voice echoed the verses of Lugh and the chorus of Manannan. And the great stag of the morning came across the fields to her and where had stood the Goddess now stood a white hind. And the love of the God was returned by the Goddess and the larks of Anghus mac Og hovering above the field echoed with ecstasy the Song of Creation. And in the villages and towns the people came out of their houses, hearing the sweet singing and seeking its source. And children danced in the streets with delight. And they went down to the shore, the Eastern shore, where rises the Sun of the Morning, and awaited the coming of Manannan and Lugh, the mast of their boat shining gold in the Sun. The sea had spoken, the Eastern dawn had given up her secret, the Gods were returning, the Old Ones awakening, joy was returning unto the sleeping land.  

I went walking really early in the morning, you know when stars are yawning and closing their eyes, and flowers and grass begin to stretch before the wind gets up from the valley and starts them dancing, and birds are worried about flying into things so they sit in their trees and chatter to each other telling stories about what they dreamed and what they plan to do with the day, and while I was standing there in the middle of the west field I heard something even more beautiful than the chorus of the birds.

Qwilleran, never an early riser by choice, now found himself routed out of bed at dawn when the birds convened for their morning singsong and the Siamese wanted to join them. Koko and Yum Yum would station themselves outside his bedroom door, the one yowling in an operatic baritone and the other uttering soprano shrieks until he got up and transported them to the gazebo. Yum Yum simply wanted to bat insects on the screens, but Koko was fascinated by the chorus of trills, chirrups, whistles, warbles, and twitters. The cacophony reminded Qwilleran of the Pickax high school band tuning up for Pomp and Circumstance.

The Procession by Stewart Stafford Let the lighthouse of past lives, With all of the blinding pinnacles, Guide us through death's brief mists. Let the homing dirge of the piper, Move us as sleep climbs upon us, Spear of Selene cresting the horizon. Let the dawn chorus sing in tribute, To winter's carpeted, unspoiled dawn, Setting forth with a crunching mission. Let the cavalcade commence, With all that are smiling and dearest, Assembling within the celestial glare. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

... we no longer wake up with the dawn chorus and settle down for the night with the hum of crickets. But just as our circadian rhythms are affected by exposure to natural light, sounds can act as cues for our sense of time and how we feel. ... There are alarm clocks that can help with your acoustic circadian rhythms by playing birdsong to wake you and the sound of waves lapping as you go to sleep... try creating your own soundtrack for the day.

In Amorous Creeping by Stewart Stafford I scaled a trellis in randy pursuit, A rose in teeth for my paramour, A thorn lurking by a naked stem, Palmy, engorged and prescient. A pigeon said to douse my ardour, A talkative fowl, plainly no pidgin, Snorts for this priggish counsel, Blind shoots, driving me upward. A wriggling worm to her chamber, Inside I crept as she lay sleeping, Sweeping a spectral sheet off her, To lay until the dawn chorus sings. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.

The Lottery by Stewart Stafford It was New York, 1984, The AIDS tsunami roared in, Friends, old overnight, no more, Breathless, I went for a check-up. A freezing winter's dawn, A solitary figure before me, What we called a drag queen, White heels trembled in the cold. "Hi, are you here to get tested?" Gum chewed, brown eyes stared. This was not my type of person, I turned heel and walked away. At month's end, a crippling flu, The grey testing centre called, Two hundred people ahead of me; A waking nightmare all too real. I gave up and turned to leave, But a familiar voice called out: "Hey, you there, come back!" I stopped and turned around. The drag queen stood there in furs, But sicker, I didn't recognise them, "Stand with me in the line, honey." "Nah, I'm fine, I'll come back again." "Support an old broad before she faints?" A voice no longer frail but pin-sharp. I got in line to impatient murmurs: "If anyone has a problem, see me!" Sylvester on boombox, graveyard choir. My pal's stage name was Carol DaRaunch, (After the Ted Bundy female survivor) Their real name was Ernesto Rodriguez. After seeing the doctor, Carol hugged me, Writing down their number on some paper, With their alias not their real name on it: "Is this the number of where you work?" "THAT is my home number to call me on. THAT'S my autograph, for when I'm famous!" "I was wrong about you, Carol," I said. "Baby, it takes time to get to know me!" A hug, shimmy, the threadbare blonde left. A silent chorus of shuffling dead men walking, Spartan results, a young man's death sentence. Real words faded rehearsal, my eyes watered. Two weeks on, I cautiously phoned up Carol. The receiver was picked up, dragging sounds, Like furniture being moved: "Is Carol there?" "That person is dead." They hung up on me. All my life's harsh judgements, dumped on Carol, Who was I to win life's lottery over a guardian angel? I still keep that old phone number forty years on, Crumpled, faded, portable guilt lives on in my wallet. © Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.

Cowboy's Dream [Verse] On this lonely road I walk alone Searching for a place to call my own In the silence I hear my heart's cry Chasing shadows in the fading sky [Verse 2] Stars above me guide my way Through the night into the day I'm a cowboy with a restless soul Dancing through life just to feel whole [Chorus] Dancing through life chasing the dream Holding on to hope as the world screams I can hear the whispers of the wind Telling me where I've been and where I'll begin [Bridge] Night turns to dawn and I'm still here Facing my doubts and facing my fears The road is long but my heart beats true With every step I find something new [Chorus] Dancing through life chasing the dream Holding on to hope as the world screams I can hear the whispers of the wind Telling me where I've been and where I'll begin [Outro] Under the stars I find my peace My soul at ease my worries cease A cowboy's dream to carry me through The lonely road brings me back to you

Be Who You Are [Verse] Walk through the fire yeah eyes wide open Can't fake the truth got no use for pretend Speak out don't be silenced scream your story Ride the wind stop hiding in the shadows [Chorus] Be who you are feel what you feel Stand up tall let the world know your thrill Better to be hated than hide behind lies Love ain't worth it if you're wearing a disguise [Verse 2] Change the world yeah one step at a time Don't wait for dawn start your own sunrise Knock down the barriers break through the mold Ain't no glory in cowardice or stories untold [Chorus] Be who you are feel what you feel Stand up tall let the world know your thrill Better to be hated than hide behind lies Love ain't worth it if you're wearing a disguise [Bridge] Truth ain't always sweet but it's always pure Follow your heart let it guide through the blur Gotta find your own way even through the pain Take the leap don't care 'bout the rain [Chorus] Be who you are feel what you feel Stand up tall let the world know your thrill Better to be hated than hide behind lies Love ain't worth it if you're wearing a disguise

This Land is Our Home [Verse] From the rolling plains to the mountain high, Our fathers bled and fought, they didn't die for a lie. Now the ghost of our past whispers in the wind, Saying "Son, don't let the dream die, fight to the end." [Verse 2] The city folks in their ivory towers, Selling out our lands for their fleeting powers. But out here in the country, we'll make a stand, With calloused hands we'll take back this land. [Chorus] This land is our home, and we're not backing down, We stand for our God and the small-town crowd. Proud to be American, we ain't selling our soul, There'll be hell to pay, we're taking back control. [Verse 3] From the chapel bells to the fields of grain, The spirit of this country runs deep in our veins. Mama's prayers, Daddy's hardened hands, We fight for the future, we take a stand. [Verse 4] In the quiet dawn, we hear the land's lament, Sold to the highest bidder, they don't repent. But we're the heartland, the rock of this earth, We'll reclaim our pride, know what it's worth. [Chorus] This land is our home, and we're not backing down, We stand for our God and the small-town crowd. Proud to be American, we ain't selling our soul, There'll be hell to pay, we're taking back control.

Backroads and Battles [Verse] Down on the backroads, where freedom's our creed, Folks like us, we don’t take lightly to greed. They're tryin' to tell us how to live, what to own, But our roots run deep, as hard as a stone. [Verse 2] But beneath this old hat, there's a fire that won't die, We ain't just cogs, we're stars in the sky. Takin' the rights to bare arms ain't the way, A hard-working man’s got a right to his say. [Chorus] This is my country, I’ll fight to the end, Proud to stand up for family and friends. They can try to change us, try to tear us apart, But they'll never steal what's carved in our hearts. [Verse 3] We rise at dawn, with sweat on our brow, Plowin' the fields, ain't no time for a row. They're tryin' to silence, to push us aside, But the spirit of this land's too strong to hide. [Chorus] This is my country, I’ll fight to the end, Proud to stand up for family and friends. They can try to change us, try to tear us apart, But they'll never steal what's carved in our hearts. [Bridge] From the mountains high to the wide open plains, We’ve weathered the storms, and danced in the rains. No politician's words can undo what’s been done, In the heart of this country, the battle has won.

I Am What Remains of Me”: October 9, 2024 at 9:53 AM Verse 1: I used to be a cowboy, riding high and free, With a heart full of dreams and a love that was meant to be. But the winds of change blew hard, and the years took their toll, Now I’m just a shadow, a man without a soul. Chorus: I am what remains of me, a ghost of who I used to be, Lost in the echoes of a love that couldn’t stay. I am what remains of me, a broken heart and memories, Wandering these empty fields, where we used to play. Verse 2: We danced under the moonlight, with stars in our eyes, But the fire burned out, and left me with goodbyes. Now the whiskey’s my companion, and the night my only friend, As I search for pieces of a heart that won’t mend. Chorus: I am what remains of me, a ghost of who I used to be, Lost in the echoes of a love that couldn’t stay. I am what remains of me, a broken heart and memories, Wandering these empty fields, where we used to play. Bridge: The sunsets still remind me of the warmth of your embrace, But the dawn brings the cold, and the tears upon my face. I keep holding on to moments that have slipped away, Hoping someday I’ll find the strength to face another day. Chorus: I am what remains of me, a ghost of who I used to be, Lost in the echoes of a love that couldn’t stay. I am what remains of me, a broken heart and memories, Wandering these empty fields, where we used to play. Outro: So I’ll ride into the sunset, with the pain that never fades, A lonely cowboy searching for the love that we once made. I am what remains of me, a story left untold, In the heart of a cowboy, who’s lost his way back home.

MY LOVE FOR YOU November 5, 2024 at 10:41 AM Verse 1: In the morning light, your face is my dawn Every smile you give, it’s where I belong With every beat of my heart, every whisper of the breeze My love for you, it’s all I need Chorus: My love for you, it’s a never-ending tale Through the highs and lows, it will never fail With every star in the sky, and the oceans so blue My love for you, forever true Verse 2: In the quiet of the night, with the moon shining bright In your arms, I find my light With every touch, every glance we share My love for you, beyond compare Chorus: My love for you, it’s a never-ending tale Through the highs and lows, it will never fail With every star in the sky, and the oceans so blue My love for you, forever true Bridge: Through the storms of life, we’ll stand strong With your hand in mine, where we belong With a love so deep, and a bond so tight We’ll face the world, in the morning light Verse 3: Every laugh, every tear, we’ve shared through the years In your love, I find no fears With every dream we chase, every hope we find My love for you, it’s one of a kind Chorus: My love for you, it’s a never-ending tale Through the highs and lows, it will never fail With every star in the sky, and the oceans so blue My love for you, forever true Outro: So here’s to us, my heart and soul With you, my love, I am whole With every beat, my love grows anew My love for you, forever true

Philip stirred. The bed beneath him felt hard as stone; his body was cramped from lying on it. Then his eyes opened. The bed was stone, for he and Linda were lying on the rock shelf above the beach. Beside him, he saw her sleeping form, still covered by the space-blanket. In the half-light he could make out the rowboat drawn up on the shingle. He was wearing his jeans and sweater; above them the sky glowed rose and apricot with dawn. “Linda!” The involuntary loudness of his cry echoed out across the water. From the farthest margin of the lake a loon’s voice answered, then another and another, until four plangent, trembling voices took up their chorus among the silence of the hills. She stirred. “Philip, I’ve had the strangest dream.” “Not a dream!” But everything disproved his words and turned them into illusions, into lies: the cabin that rose, solid and shuttered, on the opposite head of land; the gray mist coiling over the water; the smell of juniper, pungent in the dawn chill. They pushed back the plastic blanket and stood up, looking dazedly around them. Linda gave a long, soft sigh. “We’re home,” she said. Still Philip could not accept the evidence of eyes and ears and hands. He sat down and bowed his head. “He didn’t even give us the chance to say good-by.” “Yes, he did, Philip.” He heard strength and gentleness in Linda’s voice, from which all sharpness had disappeared. “But we didn’t understand.” “No. It’s hard, though.” Philip turned so that she would not see his face. A tear slid down onto the sleeve of his sweater. He wiped it away and stopped, arrested, staring. As he looked, his despair changed slowly to a still, triumphant joy. For circling his wrists, faint and indelible as an ancient scar, he saw the mark of Kyril’s hands.

The robin in your tender heart Hungers for the red berry That titillates your tongue. She carols as the snow falls— And not with the chorus of the dawn In radiant spring. What might have been? Your voice silenced, The spirit of you Destroyed, I see glimpses of your fire From the light that has vanished From your eyes. Your wings soar, Only not to follow Your heart. Whatever the passion, Let it burn. It will save you.

Delete [Verse 1 Tommy] Don't forget about the stars, the sky Lucid as the air that blows and light, that shines Just a way to figure out her when the night is wrong Take a little wander outside through the rain and snow Just a way to figure out her [Chorus 1 Tommy] Don't delete my baby, don't defeat her still In the quiet of nothing, to the hands of grace Don't delete my baby, don't defeat her now Don't delete my baby, won't you always find Gonna shine a diamond, like you never did Gonna show you something, I can't be taught Don't delete my baby, I'll find a chorus now You know that I belong to be, reflections of myself Let it all out, just let it all out To fight the feeling [Verse 2 Tommy] Don't take it to the one, in mind Always know it needs her to belong, to find Know that when I do, and want to face the place Take a little wander outside, through the rain and snow Just a way to figure out her [Chorus 2 Tommy] Don't defeat my baby, don't delete her still In the quiet of nothing, to the hands of grace Don't delete my baby, don't defeat her now Don't defeat my baby, won't you always find Gonna shine a diamond, like you never did Gonna show you something, I can't be taught Don't delete my baby, I'll find a chorus now You know that I belong to be, reflections of myself Let it all out, just let it all out To fight the feeling coming [Outro Matt] To break, don't wait Wait for me tonight, opening the door Shift horizons in good time You were there for me, waking in the night Let it catch you in the fall I know that you're right, ease with me tonight Break the moment in the dawn You were there for me, waking in the dark Know I'll meet you in the fall I could be the one, you could be divine Know I'll feel you in good time I know that you're right, ease with me tonight Break the moment in the dawn You were there for me, waking in the dark Not but the one I break, the feeling I take Everything is starting to wake You know you more, you're setting off the score

Ragtime plinking, glasses clinking, choruses getting sung with only half the lyrics right, giggles bubbling over like a tower of champagne. It's a party, shaking down the dawn.

The dawn chorus had still been chattering in the giant yew against the west wall of his cottage, the sky pink, when the telephone rang.

Leave the Trash Behind" (Verse 1) I've been down that road, where the past lingers on, Holding onto memories, till the break of dawn. But I've learned my lesson, won't repeat that crime, When you take out the trash, don't go digging back through it, it's time. (Chorus) I'm moving on, got my sights set on the new, I've cleared the clutter, my skies are turning blue. I won't be a part of letting you destroy me, I'm leaving the past, where it's meant to be. (Verse 2) You can't recycle, what's meant to stay gone, Old habits, old hurts, it's all been withdrawn. I'm setting my boundaries, I'm drawing the line, When you take out the trash, it's a sign. (Bridge) I'm not a collector of yesterday's news, I'm an architect of the life I choose. No more digging through what's been declined, I'm building a future, one day at a time. (Chorus) I'm moving on, got my sights set on the new, I've cleared the clutter, my skies are turning blue. I won't be a part of letting you destroy me, I'm leaving the past, where it's meant to be. (Outro) So here's to the clean slates, the fresh starts, To the unburdened hearts, playing brand new parts. I'm walking away, from the mess, the grind, 'Cause when you take out the trash, you leave it behind.

**Verse 1:** In the shadow of the mountain, under the big blue sky, Times are tough, the road is rough, and the well's run dry. The fields are barren, the cattle are thin, Hard times have come knocking, wearing a wicked grin. **Chorus:** But I'll keep on fighting through the storm and the strife, Hard times may bend me, but they won't take my life. With grit and with grace, I'll stand my ground, 'Cause hard times can't keep a good heart down. **Verse 2:** The factory's closed, the jobs are gone, Folks are feeling forgotten, but we've got to carry on. The bank's calling, the bills are due, But I've got faith, and I'll see it through. **Chorus:** But I'll keep on fighting through the storm and the strife, Hard times may bend me, but they won't take my life. With grit and with grace, I'll stand my ground, 'Cause hard times can't keep a good heart down. **Bridge:** When the night feels endless, and hope seems lost, I look to the stars, no matter the cost. The dawn is coming, it's just out of sight, I'll hold on till morning, through the darkest night. **Chorus:** But I'll keep on fighting through the storm and the strife, Hard times may bend me, but they won't take my life. With grit and with grace, I'll stand my ground, 'Cause hard times can't keep a good heart down. **Outro:** So here's to the fighters, the dreamers, the brave, To those who find strength, even when they're afraid. We'll weather these hard times, we won't back down, Together we'll rise, 'cause we're homeward bound.

Won't Let You Be My Downfall" (Verse 1) In the glow of neon lights, I find my stride, Chasing dreams bigger than the Friday night sky. You thought you'd see me crumble, thought I'd crawl, But I won't let you be my downfall. (Chorus) I'm riding high, on this urban rodeo, Got my heart guarded, in the city's afterglow. You can't hold me back, can't make me stall, 'Cause I won't let you be my downfall. (Verse 2) Got my boots laced up, with a modern twist, Walking streets paved with chances I won't miss. Your shadows linger, but I'll walk tall, I won't let you be my downfall. (Bridge) This heart beats to a rhythm, bold and new, I'm rewriting my story, without a trace of you. I'm not just a number, I'm a name they'll call, And I won't let you be my downfall. (Chorus) I'm riding high, on this urban rodeo, Got my heart guarded, in the city's afterglow. You can't hold me back, can't make me stall, 'Cause I won't let you be my downfall. (Outro) So here's to the nights, that turn into dawn, To the fights we fight, to the strength we've drawn. I'm standing proud, through it all, 'Cause I won't let you be my downfall.

(Verse 1) In the glow of a **dawn's early light**, With the dew on the grass, shining so bright, A cup of coffee, a **gentle breeze**, These little things, oh how they please. (Chorus) It's the **simple joys** that make life sweet, The sound of rain, the **warmth of the sun's heat**, A **smile from a stranger**, a **child's laugh** so wild, In every little thing, life's beauty is compiled. (Verse 2) A **dog's wagging tail**, a **porch swing's sway**, The **colors of flowers** that brighten the day, A **song on the radio** that takes you back, To the **sweet old memories** that never lack. (Chorus) It's the **simple joys** that make life sweet, The **harvest moon**, the **stars at your feet**, A **hand to hold**, a **heart to meet**, In every little thing, life's beauty is complete. (Bridge) So take a moment, let's **make it last**, These **simple pleasures** are our repast, From the **morning sun** to the **evening's glow**, It's the little things that make our spirits grow. (Outro) So here's to the **little things**, the **joy they bring**, In the **quiet moments**, let your heart sing, For life's a **tapestry**, woven with care, In the **simplest joys**, we find love to share.

Whiskey Truths and Lies" (Verse 1) In the glow of the bar signs, where stories intertwine, I've seen love come and go, in the blink of an eye. But if there's one thing I stand by, as I look up at the sky, Hurt me with the truth, but never comfort me with a lie. (Chorus) Lies, they're like a backroad dust storm, blinding and unkind, Leaving you lost and alone, searching for a sign. But truth, it's like a highway, straight and defined, Hurt me with the truth, but never comfort me with a lie. (Verse 2) I've laughed with strangers, cried on a friend's shoulder, Felt the sting of regret as the nights get colder. In the strum of the guitar, in every note I fly, Hurt me with the truth, but never comfort me with a lie. (Bridge) Give me raw, give me real, give me something I can feel, Not just a sweet nothing, that'll disappear with the dawn's reveal. So fill up my glass, let the spirits testify, And speak to me honestly, don't be shy. (Chorus) Lies, they're like a backroad dust storm, blinding and unkind, Leaving you lost and alone, searching for a sign. But truth, it's like a highway, straight and defined, Hurt me with the truth, but never comfort me with a lie. (Outro) So raise your glass to honesty, it's the melody we crave, In this modern country scene, it's the anthem of the brave. For every soul that's searching, for every tearful eye, Hurt me with the truth, but never comfort me with a lie.

**Verse 1:** There's a whisper in the willow, a sigh in the pine, A story of healing, line by line. The wounds we carry, hidden from sight, Begin to mend in the morning light. **Chorus:** Healing's a road, long and winding, Through the hills, a silver lining. With every step, the pain decreases, In the heart's quiet, we find our pieces. **Verse 2:** The river flows, it knows no end, Like the spirit's break, it starts to mend. The scars we wear, badges of the past, Become the strength that will forever last. **Chorus:** Healing's a journey, not a race, A gentle touch, a warm embrace. With time's soft hand, we start to see, In the mirror, who we're meant to be. **Bridge:** In the darkest night, there's a flame that glows, A seed of hope, that steadily grows. The pain we knew, starts to fade, In the tapestry of life, newly made. **Chorus:** Healing's a gift, it's ours to take, A new dawn's promise, as we awake. With each breath in, let go of grief, In healing's grace, we find relief. **Outro:** So here's to the broken, now on the mend, To the journey of healing, that never ends. May we all find peace, in the love we keep, In the quiet of healing, where the soul runs deep. May this song bring comfort and hope to anyone on the path to recovery and renewal.

**Verse 1:** In a dusty room with a flickering light, A figure sits in the depths of night. Eyes that once held the brightest stars, Now dimmed and empty, bearing scars. **Chorus:** Broken dreams, scattered on the floor, Lost all hope, can't fight no more. The weight of the world's become too much to cope, In the silence, they've lost all hope. **Verse 2:** Pictures on the wall of better days, Faded memories, in a sunless haze. The clock ticks on, but time stands still, For a broken heart that's lost its will. **Chorus:** Broken dreams, scattered on the floor, Lost all hope, can't fight no more. The weight of the world's become too much to cope, In the silence, they've lost all hope. **Bridge:** But even in the darkest hour, There's a hidden, unseen power. A spark that waits to reignite, To bring back hope, to bring back light. **Chorus:** Broken dreams, waiting to be restored, Finding hope, a new accord. The journey's long, but there's a slope, Up from the valley, where they find new hope. **Outro:** So here's to the broken, finding their way, To the dawn that follows the darkest day. May hope return, may they learn to cope, And in their hearts, may they find new hope.

(Verse 1) In the glow of a **dawn's early light**, With the dew on the grass, shining so bright, A cup of coffee, a **gentle breeze**, These little things, oh how they please. (Chorus) **Grab your hat and dance in the rain,** **Kick off your boots, forget the pain,** **Laugh with friends, under the sun's reign,** **Life's a sweet ride, hop on the train!** **Raise your glass to the stars above,** **Sing with heart, push and shove,** **Every little moment, fit like a glove,** **It's the simple things that we love!** (Verse 2) A **dog's wagging tail**, a **porch swing's sway**, The **colors of flowers** that brighten the day, A **song on the radio** that takes you back, To the **sweet old memories** that never lack. (Bridge) **Lights down low, we're just starting up,** **Fill up the tank, let's raise our cup,** **To the moments that feel like a live wire,** **Simple sparks igniting our fire.** **Sync to the beat of the city's pulse,** **Every little win, every single result,** **We're living loud in the here and now,** **In the simple life, we take our bow.** (Verse 3) **Under the wide-open sky so blue,** **Life's painting scenes, each one anew,** **A simple hello, a wave goodbye,** **In these little things, our dreams fly high.** **With every sunrise, we start again,** **Finding joy in the whisper of the wind,** **A hearty laugh, a warm embrace,** **In the simple life, we find our grace.** (Chorus) **Turn it up, let the bass line roll,** **Simple life's got that rock 'n' roll soul,** **Snap your fingers, tap your feet,** **Living for the moment, life's so sweet.** **Catch the vibe, let it take control,** **These little things are how we roll,** **From the heartland to the city's grip,** **It's the simple life that makes us flip.** (Verse 4) **The jukebox plays a tune that's bittersweet,** **Echoing tales of love and deceit,** **But in the neon glow, we find our truth,** **In simple things, we reclaim our youth.** **A twist of fate, a turn of the key,** **Life's full of surprises, as we can see,** **A chance encounter, a new beginning,** **In the simple life, we keep on winning.**

In Extremis by Stewart Stafford Saturnalia's trumpets sound, The ancestral chorus song, Time's gold web drawn back, For the stocks' denizen throng. Bawdy knights of the feral feast, Daze of snoring stranger sloth, As contagion's banquet guests, Sipping end times' galling broth. Bean found in fortuitous cake, A fool crowned Lord of Misrule, The meek's pantomimed throne, A drone in a queen bee's tulle. Fatted calf, societal scapegoat, Chattels mopping festive vomit, Charon coins on bloodshot eyes, Execution dawn to a dark comet. © Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.

One Day at a Time [Verse] Well, the rooster's crowin', the dawn is breakin' slow, I drag myself outta bed, feelin' kinda low. Coffee's brewin', but it ain't liftin' my soul, Sometimes you wonder, will you make it through the whole. [Chorus] But life's a gift, wrapped in the morning light, Each day means everything's possible, that ain't no slight. You live in the moment, let the worries unwind, Take it easy, friend, one day at a time. [Verse 2] Streets are sleepy, the town’s just wakin’ up, Carryin' burdens, it can all feel too much. But there’s a river of promise, in your own backyard, Just keep movin' forward, though the path may be hard. [Chorus] 'Cause life's a gift, wrapped in the morning light, Each day means everything's possible, that ain't no slight. You live in the moment, let the worries unwind, Take it easy, friend, one day at a time. [Bridge] Every sunset's a chance to start anew, Moonlight whispers, "There's nothing you can't do." Hold onto hope, let tomorrow find its way, Keep the faith in your heart, each and every day. [Verse 3] Neighbors wave from the porch, feeling the same fight, Old song on the radio, makes it all feel right. There's strength in this small town, like an old oak tree, Standing tall through the seasons, so can you and me.

Forgive Me, Lord [Verse] Lord, I've been lost for a long, long time, Done things I'm ashamed of, crossed that line. Down those dusty back roads, runnin' wild, Haunted by a past that’s cruel and vile. [Verse 2] Whiskey and women, they stole my soul, Late night bar fights took their toll. In the glow of neon, sin’s easy to see, Prayin' for the dawn to set me free. [Chorus] Forgive me, Lord, I'm on my knees, Fightin' these demons, beggin' please. I've walked in shadows, lived in sin, Hope someday Your light will let me in. [Verse 3] I’ve lied to my mama, broke her heart, Tore our family clean apart. With calloused hands and a heavy heart, I seek redemption, need a new start. [Verse 4] I hear Your whispers, a distant call, Feel Your presence through it all. In the church pews, under the steeple, Yearnin' to be one of Your people. [Chorus] Forgive me, Lord, I'm on my knees, Fightin' these demons, beggin' please. I've walked in shadows, lived in sin, Hope someday Your light will let me in.

Grandpa's Little Angel August 6, 2024 at 9:30 AM [Verse] She's Grandpa's little angel, his shining star, On his knee, she heard tales of days gone by. She brought sunshine to his days, near and far, And in Grandpa's arms, she'd always sigh. [Verse 2] Sunday morning, on the porch they'd sway, With a cup of coffee and a sigh of grace. She'd listen close to every word he'd say, In Grandpa’s embrace, she found her place. [Chorus] In Grandpa’s garden, she'd roam free, Picking flowers with a child's delight. In her eyes, he saw eternity, In her laughter, he found light. [Verse 3] Evenings by the fire, stories turned to song, He'd play the old guitar, she'd hum along. Time stood still for moments so long, In Grandpa's heart, she belonged. [Verse 4] Years have passed, the porch is worn, But memories linger in her heart so clear. Grandpa’s voice in every dawn, Whispering love that never disappears. [Bridge] In dreams, she walks those fields again, Hand in hand with her old friend. He’s the star in her night’s refrain, Guiding her until the end.

Perfectly Imperfect country melodic acoustic August 2, 2024 at 11:34 AM [Verse] I'm not perfect, I stumble and fall, Sometimes I say things that don't make sense at all. Laughing when I shouldn't, a little wild and free, This is who I am, it's just me being me. [Verse 2] Might seem crazy, might seem strange, But I promise you, I probably won't change. Small-town roots run deep in my mind, Love it or leave it, the choice is yours to find. [Chorus] Love me or leave me, take me as I am, With all my flaws, I'm still giving all I can. If I love you, it's with a heart that's true, Full of passion, through and through. [Verse 3] On those backroads, under the moon's light, Singing songs 'bout the wrongs and rights. Got a heart that's tender, but strong as steel, Feelings so real, that’s how I heal. [Verse 4] When the storms come rolling, and the skies aren't clear, Just hold my hand, and I'll be right here. We can face the thunder, take it head-on, With a love so strong, we'll ride 'til dawn. [Chorus] Love me or leave me, take me as I am, With all my flaws, I'm still giving all I can. If I love you, it's with a heart that's true, Full of passion, through and through.

[Verse] I've got the blues They're settling in Life's dealt a hand And it ain't good But I'll find the strength to face the day I'll keep on moving Come what may [Verse 2] Hard times bend me They won't break In the storm I'll navigate It's okay Not to feel fine In the dark The stars will shine [Chorus] It's okay Not to be okay In the light Where shadows play I'll find my way through night and day It's okay To feel this way [Bridge] Resilience Path I choose With each challenge Won't lose I'll bend But won't shatter I'm standing tall That's what matters [Verse 3] Through the gloom I'll find the dawn In this night I'll carry on With every tear Grows a smile It's a journey Every mile [Chorus] It's okay Not to be okay In the light Where shadows play I'll find my way through night and day It's okay To feel this way

Pray for Momma [Verse] I pray for Momma, to ease her every pain, For the strength she’s shown me, in her own special way. With hands that cradled me, and a heart so true, She's the light of our home, and I pray she'll pull through. [Chorus] Oh Lord, help her heal, give her strength to live another day, We still need her laughter, her smile to lead the way. In the quiet of the night, I whisper a tearful plea, Watch over my Momma, like she's watched over me. [Verse 2] Her gentle voice, a soothing lullaby, The warmth of her touch, never asked why. Through storms and trials, she's our steady guide, I've seen her stand tall, though she’s hurting inside. [Chorus] Oh Lord, help her heal, give her strength to live another day, We still need her laughter, her smile to lead the way. In the quiet of the night, I whisper a tearful plea, Watch over my Momma, like she's watched over me. [Bridge] Years of sacrifice, she gave all she could, Raised us with love, in a small neighborhood. Now it’s her turn to rest, but still she fights on, Lord, give her peace, before her strength is gone. [Verse 3] Every dawn I rise, I see her face anew, A beacon of hope in skies once gray and blue. Her love has shaped me, every step of my track, I’ll keep praying for her, until she gets back.

On account of their puny size and disappointing taste, in France wild pears are known as "poires d'angoisse" or pears of anguish. In Versailles, though, in the kitchen garden, pears are bred for pleasure. Of the five hundred pear trees, the best usually fruit in January--- the royal favorite, a type called "Bon Chrétien d'Hiver," or "Good Christian of Winter." Each pear is very large--- the blossom end engorged, the eye deeply sunk--- whilst the skin is a finely grained pale yellow, with a red blush on the side that has been touched by the sunlight. It is known for its brittle, lightly scented, almost translucent flesh that drips with a sugary juice; that soaks your mouth when your teeth sink into it. The gardener here, Jean-Baptiste de La Quintinie, says that when a pear is ripe its neck yields to the touch and smells slightly of wet roses. This winter they have not ripened, though, but have frozen to solid gold. Murders of crows sit on the branches of the pear trees, pecking at the rime of them. They have become fairy fruit; those dangling impossibilities. What would you give to taste one? Spring always comes, though. Is it not magic? The world's deep magic. March brings the vast respite of thaw, that huge unburdening, that gentling--- all winter's knives and jaws turning soft and blunt; little chunks of ice riding off on their own giddy melt; everything dripping and plipping and making little streams and rivulets; tender pellucid fingers feeling their way towards the sea; all the tiny busywork. And with the returning sun, too, sex. Tulips, first found as wild flowers in Central Asia--- named for the Persian word "tulipan," for turban--- thrust and bow in the warm soil of Versailles, their variegated "broken" petals licked with carmine flames. The early worm-catchers begin their chorus, skylarks and song thrushes courting at dawn. Catkins dangle like soft, tiny pairs of elven stockings. Fairy-sized wigs appear on the pussy willows. Hawthorn and sloe put on their powder and patches, to catch a bee's eye.

Love's Crossroads [Verse] I see you standing there, a smile that could light up the night, Your eyes are calling me, but I know it wouldn’t be right. I got one at home who loves me, waiting up till dawn, And though my heart is aching, I gotta move along. [Verse 2] On this dusty road, I’ve wandered far and wide, Temptation’s always knocking, hard to keep it outside. I hold my wedding ring, a circle made of gold, Promises we kept whisper in my soul. [Chorus] Love's crossroads, where true hearts always meet, Every choice is heavy, though the moment feels sweet. Got a lady back in Tennessee, my heart she's owned for life, So I'll turn away from you, I can't betray my wife. [Verse 3] The jukebox in the corner, plays an old and lonesome song, Two-step thoughts of dancing, but it wouldn't last too long. She’s texting me “I miss you,” while I’m looking in your eyes, But I shake off temptation, and remember my ties. [Bridge] It’s a hard road to travel, walking straight and true, When every stranger's glance feels like a gentle skew. But I'll keep on this path, bound by love so deep, Knowing she's at home, that's the promise I keep. [Chorus] Love's crossroads, where true hearts always meet, Every choice is heavy, though the moment feels sweet. Got a lady back in Tennessee, my heart she's owned for life, So I'll turn away from you, I can't betray my wife.

Verse 1: I gave you my heart, you tore it apart, Every word you said was just a lie, I tried to hold on, but now I see, You were never the one for me. Pre-Chorus: I can’t be with someone who takes pleasure in my pain, Someone who can’t love me, it’s driving me insane. Chorus: I need to break free, find my own way, No more tears, no more games to play, I deserve someone who loves me true, Not someone who finds joy in making me blue. Verse 2: You said you loved me, but it was all a show, Behind your smile, a darkness I didn’t know, I won’t be your victim, not anymore, I’m walking away, closing this door. Pre-Chorus: I can’t be with someone who takes pleasure in my pain, Someone who can’t love me, it’s driving me insane. Chorus: I need to break free, find my own way, No more tears, no more games to play, I deserve someone who loves me true, Not someone who finds joy in making me blue. Bridge: I’ll find the strength to move on, In the light of a brand new dawn, No more shadows, no more lies, I’ll spread my wings and learn to fly. Chorus: I need to break free, find my own way, No more tears, no more games to play, I deserve someone who loves me true, Not someone who finds joy in making me blue. Outro: I cannot be with someone who takes pleasure in my pain, Someone who can’t love me, it’s driving me insane.

I needed to fade. Not to die, not to disappear altogether – just to soften, so the world stopped catching on my sharp corners. So I didn’t feel it when it scraped me. I ached for the comfort of absence. I longed to exist less severely.

Hairs rose on the back of my neck as voices sang out from all around the stadium, joining in a great rumbling chorus. They were cheering for pretty words that would destroy us. Progress for ReDawn. It was what we all wanted, of course. But some of us thought it mattered what we were progressing toward.

he abhorred these self-righteous, self-appointed arbiters of morality. He called them “the Anvil Chorus,” pointing out that every new development in history had drawn the fear and suspicion of people like them.

On November 15, 1977, Barthes wrote this in his Mourning Diary: “I am either lacerated or ill at ease / and occasionally subject to gusts of life.” My hypothesis on the morning of August 6 was this: a novel is a gust of life from another world. August 6, midnight. I tossed my body at a stranger as if he were a gust of life. August 7, dawn. Googled: reasons to live. Approximately nine billion results. Googled: how to write a novel. Eight hundred million results. That was almost a trillion arguments against death.

If you can identify the species in your local woods by their song, you can put together a very personal bird clock based on their dawn chorus.

But, of all Albert’s fine service to me, I believe that most appreciated was the morning coffee. Around daylight, or thereabouts, the fifty or more pointers and setters kenneled not too far beyond my open window would start setting up their chorus. In a very short while, they’d be really opening up full swing. And I liked that, too. At first, it merely served as a reminder¬—after a comfortable night—that day was dawning in great quail country, and there were some of America’s finest bird dogs to run—and excellent horses to ride.

The red day dawned when the tinder was lighted in the Balkans and Austro-Hungary seized a bit which brought her a step nearer to the world's highway; she seized one bit and poised herself for another. Then came that curious chorus of challenges, those leaping suspicions, raking all causes for distrust and rivalry and hatred, but saying little of the real and greatest cause. Each nation felt its deep interests involved. But how? Not, surely, in the death of Ferdinand the Warlike; not, surely, in the old, half-forgotten revanche for Alsace-Lorraine; not even in the neutrality of Belgium. No! But in the possession of land overseas, in the right to colonies, the chance to levy endless tribute on the darker world,—on coolies in China, on starving peasants in India, on black savages in Africa, on dying South Sea Islanders, on Indians of the Amazon—all this and nothing more.

Autumn rolls against us― outside the morning chorus― you roll over― held in ivory sheets― looking― dawning tenderness in sleepy auroras sermon― animation paved the simplest rule― along those stationary moments― and I fell for you in those words― it's so hard to get out of bed with you there―

The sun was peeking over a row of beeches like a pastoral equivalent of the classic graffiti of Kilroy and his wall, and the owls of the valley had just handed the avian noise baton over to the Dawn Chorus. This morning the band, which was rapidly becoming one of my all-time favourite British ones, right up there with Led Zeppelin, Pentangle and the Stones, was working on a fuller sound: lots of new session players were chipping in and trying out new ideas, including a pheasant, the ensemble’s answer to a notoriously unreliable bagpipe player who stumbles in, still drunk from the night before, blows a couple of off-kilter notes, then leaves. Still in my pyjamas,

Then her voice rang out full of emotion: I trusted you, I fell for you Your eyes were kind, your heart felt true How did you dare, oh how could you Take my heart and break it in two Her voice quivered with heart-wrenching emotion as she sang the chorus Betrayed but not broken A door shuts, another opens I’ll be strong, I will move on Your memory won’t last ‘til dawn Betrayed, but I refuse to be broken In time you will be forgotten Her fingers ran beautifully across the piano as she played her piano solo without singing. The hard keys forced her to pour her whole strength in her fingers. Usually when she played, it was effortless. On this piano, however, she felt the energy running through her arm and explode at the tip of her fingers when they entered in contact with the hard, rusty, ivory keys. It was as if Maude was fighting against the resistant keys, trying to dominate, to master them, and the result was breathtaking.

because there was a new face in the chorus, and rumor—in the person of his friend Aubrey—said she was a promising possibility as a mistress. And indeed she was, Lucien had to admit—at least, she would be for Aubrey, who had come into his title and had full control of his fortune. But not for someone like Lucien—a young man on a strict allowance and whose title of Viscount Hartford was only a courtesy one, borrowed from his father. Being my lord was, he had found, one of the few benefits of being the only son of the Earl of Chiswick. “She’s quite attractive, as game pullets go,” he told Aubrey carelessly after the play, as they cracked the first bottle of wine at their club. “Have her with my blessing.” Aubrey snorted. “You know, Lucien, it’s just as well you’re not looking for a high-flyer, for you damned well couldn’t afford her.” Lucien forced a smile. “She’s not my sort, as it happens.” “Balderdash—she’s any man’s sort.” Not mine, Lucien thought absently. He might have said it aloud if the sentiment hadn’t been so startlingly true. How odd—for the chorus girl had been a prime piece, buxom and long-limbed and flashy, as well as incredibly flexible as she moved around the stage. How could he not be interested? Aubrey was looking at him strangely, so Lucien said, “If she’s so much to your taste, I’m surprised you didn’t go around to the stage door after the performance and make yourself known.” “Strategy, my friend. Never let a woman guess exactly how interested you are.” Aubrey waved a hand at a waiter to bring another bottle, and as they drank it, he detailed his plan for winning the chorus girl. “It’s too bad you can’t join the fun, for I’m certain she has a friend,” Aubrey finished. “The gossips have it that your father is never without a lightskirt, so why should he object to you having one?” “Oh, not a lightskirt. Only the finest of the demimonde will do for the Earl of Chiswick.” Lucien drained his glass. “I’m meant to be on the road to Weybridge at first light—for the duke’s birthday, you know. A few hours’ sleep before I climb into a jolting carriage will not come amiss.” “Too late.” Aubrey tilted his head toward the nearest window. “Dawn’s breaking now, if I’m not mistaken. You won’t mind if I don’t come to see you off? Deadly dull it is, waving good-bye—and I’ve a mind for a hand or two of piquet before I go home.” Lucien walked from the club to his rooms in Mount Street, hoping a fresh breeze might help clear his head. The post-chaise Uncle Josiah had ordered for him was already waiting. The horses stamped impatiently, snorting in the cool morning air, and the postboys looked bored. Nearby, Lucien’s valet paced—but he

Let the storm into you, Paige. Hold it inside. See yourself as a force of nature, vast enough to defeat a god, and carry that image for all of your days.

CORNER OF THE EARTH" "Little darlin' don't you see the sun is shining Just for you only today If you hurry, you can get a ray on you Come with me just to play Like every humming bird and bumblebee Every sunflower cloud and every tree I feel so much a part of this Nature's got me high and it's beautiful I'm with this deep eternal universe From death until rebirth This corner of the earth is like me in many ways I can sit for hours here and watch the emerald feathers play On the face of it, I'm blessed When the sunlight comes for free I know this corner of the earth, it smiles at me So inspired of that, there's nothing left to do or say Think I'll dream, 'til the stars shine The wind it whispers, and the clouds don't seem to care And I know inside that it's all mine It's the chorus of the breakin' dawn The mist that comes before the sun is born To a hazy afternoon in May Nature's got me high and it's so beautiful I'm with this deep eternal universe From death until rebirth You know that this corner of the earth is like me in many ways I can sit for hours here and watch the emerald feathers play On the face of it, I'm blessed When the sunlight comes for free I know this corner of the earth, it smiles at me I know this corner of the earth, it smiles at me

Come Stand By Me January 17, 2025 at 11:13 AM (Verse 1) When the night is cold and lonely, And your heart feels like it's breaking, Come stand by me, come stand by me. If you cry for wanting, to be held, Come stand by me, come stand by me. (Chorus) Come stand by me, through the storm and rain, I'll be your friend, I'll ease your pain. When the world feels heavy, and you can't see, If you need a friend, come stand by me, come stand by me. (Verse 2) If you've been broken, lost in the dark, And you're searching for a brand new start, Come stand by me, come stand by me. When the tears fall like a river, And you need someone to talk to, Come stand by me, come stand by me. (Chorus) Come stand by me, through the storm and rain, I'll be your friend, I'll ease your pain. When the world feels heavy, and you can't see, If you need a friend, come stand by me, come stand by me. (Bridge) We'll face the shadows, hand in hand, Together we'll make our stand. In the light of dawn, we'll find our way, Come stand by me, come stand by me. (Chorus) Come stand by me, through the storm and rain, I'll be your friend, I'll ease your pain. When the world feels heavy, and you can't see, If you need a friend, come stand by me, come stand by me. (Outro) When the night is cold and lonely, And your heart feels like it's breaking, Come stand by me, come stand by me. If you cry for wanting, to be held, Come stand by me, come stand by me.