majesty.enchantment.transformation.bellham.
k r i s s t a l o r e
What is Change ???
Matt's Musings
​ AN ANNIVERSARY
by MATT TURLEY
I saw the turtle years ago at dusk.
It swam beneath a rock when I approached.
I watched it’s protruding head
As it’s fore flippers kept it from drifting out.
​
I stopped on the bridge again today,
As I have on every run since then,
In rain, snow, and sunshine. And yet,
I have not seen the turtle again.
​
I lingered longer this time.
Mallards flew upstream above the water,
Close enough so that their reflections
Appeared connected to their beings,
Like skaters on a frozen creek.
​
Ripples on the surface fluttered downstream -
Like streamers stuck to a stick -
Inextricably attached to a branch that
Was half submerged and half exposed.
​
I watched the ripples, hoping
That my focus on the surface
Might reveal something deeper,
As my warm tears joined the cold water below.
​
I wondered where the turtle went.
Was it OK? Did it no longer live here?
Or was it just passing through
When we met years ago?
​
I suppose that its absence
Is not personal.
Except that it is, because
The turtle is her avatar.
2 New Songs
by Joe Strell
Joe Strell-musician : all instruments, composer,
vocalist, producer, recording artist
​
Time to Kill
​The many roads I've covered
The many trails I've burned
But when our paths did cross, love
My whole world made a turn
And we've got time to kill, what a thrill
June and July
We've got all our love
Buckets of the tears that we cried
Now we don't cry no more
Gonna bolt the door
Don't know what we've got, but it feels like a lot
We don't need no more
When my day's work is done
We can take in a jamboree
But I just wanna sit down by the fire
With my love right here beside me
We've got time to kill, Catskill
Sweet by and by
We've got all our l ove, the sky above
The twinkle in your eye
Now where the wheel might roll
Is where my love and I shall go
We're gonna plant the seed, there ain't nothing we need
We found our own rainbow
My love wants to have her fortune read
And I know that she's in a hurry
If we go along the straight and narrow
You don't even have to worry
We've got time to kill, standin' still
Go on, give it a try
We've got all our love, mountains of
The trees are so high
We don't need no big car
Don't eat no caviar
When we come to rest, we take to the nest
You know where we are.
​
by Robbie Robertson / August 17, 1970
Commemorating :
The Band
A Lyric Excerpt from
The Rumor :
. . . They'll repeat the rumor again
Close your eyes,
hang down your head
Until the fog blows away,
let it blow away . . .
Open up your arms
and feel the good
It's a-comin',
a brand new day .
​
In Reverie.
Have You Been Here Before ?
by Kris Strell
The bedroom curtains flutter and dance as if by their own will.
Screened windows open as a breeze intermingles with the cloth.
Fabric slowly billows opening wide into the room as light as air.
As if breathing, the inside Pull comes to a complete standstill,
Then the Push back outwards begins with this interchange of air.
This process of taking air Into and expelling it Out : a movement.
The curtains seem alive, dancing with their partner the currents.
I have the time to take this in as eye observe with sheer reverie.
I reflect upon the last time I savored summer draperies stirring
To & fro, purely particularly only a warm sunshiney activity.
The remembrance of being here before yes, I have known this !!
Recollected memories of been-here-before rose up. I know this !!
The state of where I was which enabled me to silently witness,
Were both one & the same, yes that is why I am able to see this.
My sole non-activity of what I was doing in order to take this in.
See the breathing the life the magic as I lay ready to take a nap.
A summertime siesta. Currently a daily nap keeps me chipper.
Now as a white-haired seasoned warrior honed by the winds,
This familiar memory brought-up-to-the-surface recalls when.
Once eons ago I partook in this luxurious daily habit I do declare.
Upon last visiting these billows of summer I was a small fry.
Those were the days my friend at the other end of the spectrum.
I last reveled in the luxury of an especially-in-the-summertime,
These leisurely lost-in-time-moments when catching a few winks.
​
The Smell of Summer
by Kris Strell
No other way to describe my love for the sun.
Than an inhalation of the heat perfumed sky.
The white downy comforter agrees with me.
Stretching out hugging and soaking in comfort.
The fibers inhale the drenching rays & hold them.
The cotton now woven with the smell of summer.
This olfactory sniff sensation fills our lungs with the sun.
Our breath knows and understands this distinct aroma.
We breathe the illuminations of a far away distant orb.
A star 93 million miles out there in the solar sun system.
A star 4.6 billion years old really how do they know this.
A star that takes 8-1/3 minutes to touch us giving us life.
We shine because our of our sun. The generator of the vital.
A single shining star out there in space, we spin around it.
Interdependently rotating endlessly our duration odyssey,
Means existence, energy, essence, survival, and the spark.
Imagine Sol Helios Apollo Horus Surya Ra our Daystar.
We breathe the light, & smell summer. The scent of life.
……ahhh.
