THE PIANO  . . . MANN-E-QUIN   He’s listening. Hands at his side. The piano plays – for him. Only him.   It’s been over 100 years. He stays and listens. Through storms. And fine weather.   Who knows him? Who will remember? He and…

This boat moves like magic, a simple push with the oar and I am floating through the stars. Beloved, we are here just now and time is fleeting. Let us row together through the moonlight. The lullaby suggests we will return but the fable casts…