Saturday, July 19, 2014


The skies were cloudy and intermittent drizzle kept falling, and it didn't look promising for the free concert scheduled for Findlay Park, but I felt the pull and Chimo said he would come along, so we grabbed our folding chairs and umbrellas and headed off to enjoy some music. I am so glad we did. Although the crowd was understandably smaller than it usually is, those who came saw the lowcountry represent in a big way. I dare say that it may have been one of, if not the, best concerts I have attended there. All the musicians hailed from Charleston. The opening act was a saxophonist who was pretty good but whose name escapes me now, followed by young guitarist/vocalist Faith Lyn, who did some nice covers and a couple of original pieces, and I really enjoyed them both. But then I was knocked right on my ass. Smooth jazz violinist Daniel D. (Davis) strode to the mike and delivered an awesome performance, opening with a wonderful set of covers of Michael Jackson songs, including an awesome job on "Beat It." Backed by a really good group, the Urban Instrumentalists (I don't know if they were a quickly assembled bunch, but I hope he keeps them together), Daniel played a mix of smooth jazz, pop, and gospel covers that knocked my socks off. I liked every single song, even his rendition of Happy Birthday. In fact, the live performance may have been even better than the studio recording, because the ensemble brought a bit more funkiness to the groove. And his violin was stunningly beautiful, and even more interesting when he pulled it down from his shoulder and played it like a guitar. If you can't tell yet, I really dug this guy's groove and I enthusiastically encourage people to check them out. And I did something I have never done in more than a decade of attending these type of performances...I bought the cd. So that should tell you something. He is on facebook if you want to check him out.

Thursday, July 17, 2014


Sometimes the birds will
grow still, not singing anymore,
all the quills frozen.

Monday, July 14, 2014


Mother mockingbird
guarding your holly bush nest,
your baby’s calling.

Friday, July 11, 2014


The owl in the night pine sky
hooted most eves a soft reply
to quiet dusk and creaking limb,
a fervent wish to be let in?
Or mournful note of passing time,
a harbinger of deathly rhyme?
I think not, it’s just her jest,
Only God knows, who knows her best.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014


Brazil took it on the chin yesterday. And it was difficult to watch, even as many rooted for Germany. The loss of two important cogs in their wheel, one to injury the other to cards, certainly caused trouble with the mechanism, but it shouldn’t have shut down the entire engine. Brazil has too much talent, even on that field, but they didn’t seem like a team, especially in the back. They were confused, standing around, unsure of communications with each other (which was also evident on other parts of the pitch). And it has been somewhat evident throughout the tournament; the United States doesn’t have the level of talent, but they played as a team. Brazil seemed as if they felt they were automatically slotted, nay destined, for the final match by some divine right. At home. But that is why we play the games, and the discipline and creativity of the side in red taught the petulant pups from the Amazon a lesson that was hurtful, but I think necessary, perhaps to the world. Talent, individual brilliance, simply isn’t enough. It’s still a team sport. The score could have been even worse, though Brazil did have some good chances in the second half that just didn’t materialize because of good defensive play (and perhaps some weaker passes). The green and yellow will cry and gnash their teeth, but they will be back with a vengeance, no doubt, once the lessons have been absorbed.


Sometimes I drive to work
listening to nothing except tires rolling
and air conditioning blowing,
few thoughts since I got out of bed,
just reacting to the world and road,
can feel brain shrinking, no heavy load,
no heartache or pain, worries that clatter,
even my duties ahead don’t matter,
till I park, and the day shifts to start.

Monday, June 30, 2014


My solitude is
like drifting in the doldrums
waiting for a breeze.