A tankabun (yes I am addicted to these..lol) of the changing seasons of life...
Song of Autumn
I remember spring,
Its drifting into summer,
And yet here I am
On winter's edge, just longing
To hear the song of autumn
It is but a whisper, this song, a promise... stuff of dreams. It is the memory of yesterday and scent of tomorrow, that taste of restless wind and touch of russet breeze. It is the heartbeat of brilliance and breath of beginnings. It is a sonata of change, an aria of the once-forgotten. It is a song of gentle moods and quiet passions... and it waits for me until I might find its words.
Using Calgary as a backdrop the author satirizes the self-serving nature of the public as it continues to fatten itself, not only physically, but egotistically as well.
David Hightower’s lyrically expansive meditation on the whims of fate and the unpredictability of the human condition fill the pages of THE HANGING MAN DREAMS with thrilling music and mesmerizing imagery. Hightower’s richly infused voice echoes the e
Hugs,
Marcia
Peace,
Dan