Poetry Sings  

A dear friend, George Henriksen, has observed the world and written poetry for almost fifty years.  Going through his work the other day looking for a poem I had once set to music, I reread one poem about an experience he had chronicled while watching water in the sound on a shifting day.  The poem literally said, "Set me to music."  And so I obeyed.

  1. Drifting

Can you feel it?  

Sometimes songs come as stories, but other times, I just want to capture images to help you feel the experience.  My husband and I spent seven days on a wilderness whitewater rafting trip during the "worst weather in 13 years."  But in spite of all of the struggles, there was something mystical about the physical act of being on the water in rain, in mist, in cold and in flickering moments of sun.  Here is a rough draft from our next album "poet of Stones".  

  1. On the Water

What's in a word?  

After watching a friend of mine call a square dance, I had been haunted by the image of a young mother holding her baby in her outstretched hands.  They stared at each other as she waltzed around the room, and I wrote a song called "Baby, Won't You Dance With Me?" Last night I started thinking about a line in the song, "The smell of you is wafting like spring through the air.."  WAFTING.   Does anyone even know that word anymore?  It describes what I thought as I watched her swirl with the baby past windows and doors open to the first air of spring.  After a sleepless night, I changed the line to read "The smell of you is drifting like spring through the door..."  Funny how these little things haunt someone who loves words.  I am still not there yet, but "baby, won't you dance with me" swirls through my head like the memories of that waltz as I continue to work through the images.  Here's the rough draft :-)


  1. Baby, Won't You Dance With Me?

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