Recently, I had the great pleasure of attending a performance of a World Premier offered by some great friends, who are excellent musicians.  They collaborated with a composer who used the poetry of May Sarton as the lyrics for this new work.

First, the work.  Journey of Seasons (A Cycle of Songs) by Andrew List was wonderful, lush, and modern.  It was a very different piece and I was delighted by it!!  Andrew List is Professor of Composition at Berklee College of Music in Boston.  I am a great fan of challenges, and he presented my friends with a piece worthy of their musicianship.

Ah, my friends!  Two married couples -- a soprano and a bass, a mezzo and a tenor -- are The Amici Tonic Vocal Ensemble.  They are beyond talented and it was an honor of mine to sing with them many years ago.  Their voices were an amazement of exquisite blending and beautiful musicianship.  The solos were wonderful, but when they sang together, it gave me chills!!  They were joined by Gail Zugger on clarinet and Philip Everingham on piano, both ample musicians as well.  The entire group expressed their interest in an encore performance and I plan to attend!!

Finally, the poet!  I was entranced by Ms. Sarton's words.  Here, I share my favorite poem from the work:

An Observation by May Sarton

True gardeners cannot bear a glove / Between the sure touch and the tender root, / Must let their hands grow knotted as they / move, With a rough sensitivity about / Under the earth, between the rock and shoot, / Never to bruise or wound the hidden fruit. / And so I watched my mother's hands grow / scarred, She who could heal the wounded / plant or friend With the same vulnerable yet / rigorous love; I minded once to see her / beauty gnarled, But now her truth is given / me to live, As I learn for myself we must be / hard To move among the tender with an / open hand, And to stay sensitive up to the end / Pay with some toughness for a gentle world.

I am no gardener myself, but I am a nature-lover, and this poem speaks to me of beauty, love, and tenderness . . . and what must sometimes be endured to achieve them.