Bill Evans: "Here's That Rainy Day"

By Jan Zwicky

On a bad day, you come in from the weather
and lean your back against the door.
This time of year it's dark by five.
Your armchair, empty in its pool of light.

That arpeggio lifts, like warmth, from the fifth of B minor,
offers its hand - let me
tell you a story...But in the same breath,
semitones falling to the tonic:
you must believe and not believe;
that door you came in
you must go out again.

In the forest, the woodcutter's son
sets the stone down from his sack and speaks to it.
And from nothing, a spring wells,
falling as it rises, spilling out
across the dark green moss.
There is sadness in the world, it says,
past telling.  Learn stillness
if you would run clear.

Landscaping

At first glance
I see unfinished business
I want to change it
meet my idea of esthetics and beauty

A barren surface
appears raw, exposed
craggy granite is dusty and open
it makes me uncomfortable
I want to cover it up with
colorful flowers
pretty petals
make it look lovely
attractive
hide the earthy escarpment

Slowly I take time
to really look
really see what is before me

I notice the cacti are not as prickly as they seem
I see unique beauty
they belong in the scene
they must not be ripped out

Moss
lover of shadows
of shade
shies away from bright light
it belongs
With tenderness and care
its place in the rock garden
can be assured too

Bits of color
are dots throughout the stone
some peek out from the margins of the rocks
some create a subtle seam along a ridge
a kiss of gentleness amongst the hard surfaces
a promise of delight

One great rock
is surrounded by many smaller ones
a flow of gravel defines the space
supports the giant in the middle
that punctuates the surface with its presence

I am humbled by the gentle beauty
I had thought to be unfinished business
no flamboyant colors
or exotic flowers
an understated blending of non-descript items
that together
as a whole are quite striking
splendid
just as it is