21 August 2020

Dewy Roses

Sadder Budweiser.
Postcards From Dead Squirrel Trail

Thirty-two teeth in a jawbone / Alabamas tryin’ for none, Before I have to hit him, I hope he’s got the sense to run.

— The Grateful Dead “Alabama Getaway”

These past couple of days, I’ve been chipping away at the marble of while the dew is still on the roses. It’s something of a calliope mash-up of “In the Garden” (C. Austin Miles, 1913) and “Genevan 42” (Louis Bourgeois, 1551) to serve as a cheerful, brief Postlude. I’m not rushing it, but having some fun.

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