Dream Suite
I. small song
II. first voyage
III. Lilies
IV. Revelry
V. Indian Summer
Dream Suite is a collaboration between three artists: a poet, a pianist, and a composer. I approached my dear friend Jessica to write some poetry for a four to six movement work for my other dear friend Corinne.The result is five short pieces that reflect Jessica’s beautiful poetry.The suite as a whole is meant to bring back memories of past joys but with a tinge of the surreal. An idyllic setting to lose oneself in for 15 minutes or so, so let your mind wander to whatever dream places you wish to go.
poetry by Jessica Stein
I. small song
let it smack of small things
of hidden, hard to find things
Of lonely things in the underneath behind and unexpected
let it sing of still silences of peace in evening light
Of early morning reverence and autumn birds in flight
I will watch the sun rise there
and turn the floorboards golden brown
Amidst such glory of wild-sweet ordinary I should hardly make a sound.
II. first voyage
Wander the world then, wild one, small as you yet are
swift and proud like the fox graceful strength of the sparrow
Only do not despise our humility
who have loved truth and never lies
and contented ourselves with the wonders
of a small and homely house.
III. Lilies
“In those days I slept in the attic, School just one room,” she tells me, Eyes twinkling. “I was younger than you Moving away from home, farm to city.”
Contented there, blue eyes, braided white hair Crocheting in her lap, blanket for a grandchild
Grandma Rose next to her smiling in agreement, glasses slipping down her nose, a thousand wrinkles in one smile, filling mischievous face with life,
telling stories of four sons –
“I named them all after my boyfriends!” with a wink, “My husband never knew.”
Two more, in the corner, arguing over a game of checkers with visiting grandchildren come to see
snow-white lilies of the field
who neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns. Yet did Solomon in his young splendor ever attain glory such as one of these?
IV. Revelry
Midsummer revels of long long ago When I was a lass and you were a lad
I, youngest queen, and you, the young king – Remember the lift of bare feet in the grass?
Sunlight so golden we drank it in goblets Music like laughter and rose petal dresses
Minstrels in cohort, on forest green seat, Sounding a strain as lifts merry and sweet
Nothing quite careless as midsummer’s eve
When the dryads and nyads would come as they pleased
Ancient oak sentinals stretching to heaven And brilliant curtains of green shining leaves.
Hunting deep myst’ries of love’s celebrations
With feet that seemed winged for all they were fleet
—The summer a tree sprung from tender black loam And grew to a symbol of all we had sworn
No thief now could now rob us of treasure it seems— we have ever been rich for those distant sweet dreams.
V. Indian Summer
When wild geese arrive,
bobbing brown heads, blinking black eyes bound southward in long lines
sweeping the azure sky
rich regalia written all over
sky and ground, bright-hued splashes of wealth
wake from your worried dreams
of stacked words and somber work
let the sun teach you to sing
in the last short days of its warmth.