The music reached us. Clumsily, stumbling over our own roots, rustling our leaves in answer, we moved, we followed.

And I in terror but not in doubt of what I must do in anguish, in haste, wrenched from the earth root after root, the soil heaving and cracking, the moss teari…

By dawn he was gone. We have stood here since, in our new life. We have waited. He does not return.

Fire he sang, that trees fear, and I, a tree, rejoiced in its flames. New buds broke forth from me though it was full summer. As though his lyre (now I knew it…

I should like to take the wind and water and sand as a motif and work with them, but it has to be simplified in most cases to colour and force lines, just as m…

Mother, though my song's measure is like your surf-beat's ancient rhythm I never learned it of you. Before there was any water there were tides of fire, both o…

As we cast our gaze on the tumbling sea A vision came o'er me Of thundering hooves and beating wings In clouds above.