Everywhere the hummingbird wings beat death, and quarter notes ring in the ether like solos from a lost guitar.

The shadows of enormous violet clouds lumber across the hills like Roman galleons….like migrating whales….like….

Grief is all the shadows I never notice until it's nightfall. There is only so much lightning in any storm. Everything dangerous sparks and disappears.

If your ghost were a shadow, it would follow me forever. If blue were not a color, it would taste like salt. If a piano were not an instrument, I would sail it home to you.

Don't you ever wonder what made the first humans sing?