Watch through the ivy on the windowsill
a half-dozen children amble up a hill,
and not a sound disturbs the air until
they run down, run down, run down.
And when it’s early afternoon again,
look through the fading ivy and the rain
and wait for the condensation on the pane
to run down, run down, run down.
Remain in love with life’s enormities
and the quiet stages in between,
content to lose your way among the trees
that change from brown to green.
Beside a city street in early fall,
road workers loiter at a grocer’s stall.
The foreman wipes his brow and gives them all
the rundown, rundown, rundown.
Stay in love with life’s enormities
and the subtle changes in between
with time enough to come to know the trees
that change from brown to green.
And sounds of bound-
less being drown
out cycles of
an unobservant sun.
And sundown astounds
you until you’ve found
yourself alone—
but not the only one.
A din of clockworks from the upper floor:
lifetime of clocks, years left to gather more,
lifetime of clocks to oil and wind before
they run down, run down, run down.
Still in love with life’s enormities
and the quiet stages in between.
Still young enough to stop and watch the trees
that change from brown to green.
Julie Byrne continues an increasingly necessary tradition of quietly offering musical artifacts that want to be climbed into and lived in (spelunked?), to be known, like company, rather than consumed. Brian Seabolt
The second EP from Northern Irish singer-songwriter Bea Stewart runs from gentle folk to pillowy pop ballads, all perfectly executed. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 15, 2024