Dance me to the end of love

It was an ordinary day in the park. I was sitting on a bench in the sunshine, reading “The Museum of Extraordinary Things.” A group of about 20 young people walked down the path, humming “Dance Me to the End of Love.” They set up in an open space, formed a semi-circle and began to sing in earnest. I put my book down and listened for almost an hour. They sang nothing but Leonard Cohen songs. When I got home I learned he died. I felt like I’d been in the park of extraordinary things.

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Bird on a Wire

Image by Virginia DeBolt

The overhead wires, normally full of birds this early in the morning, looked a bit different today. Balloons dotted the sky like notes on a scale. My though was, “Is that a treble clef or a bass clef?” How would their song sound? Quiet but with an occasional burst of air and heat. Serene but exciting. Bracingly cold and invigorating. Such music.

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