Jeanne Emrich
                                                 

    
                                                       Fallen Grasses: A Winter Meditation

                                                            Tanka Lyrics by Jeanne Emrich
                                                            Music by Susan Precourt Reddin

                                                            Sung by the Bloomington Chorale
                                                        under the direction of Steven Johnston
                                                                         Bloomington, MN

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                        (Length: 4 minutes)                             


 

                                                                 the way winter leaves
                                                                 cling to the red oak―
                                                                 all I know for sure
                                                                 is the easy questions
                                                                 were answered long ago



                                                                 looking up, I let snow
                                                                 fall into my eyes . . .
                                                                 and here I thought
                                                                 I would take no more
                                                                 from this weary earth

 

                                                                 snow lingers
                                                                 in the dark ravines . . .
                                                                 even if I could keep myself
                                                                 from looking back
                                                                 I would anyway



                                                                 with these words
                                                                 I make a feast
                                                                 in honor of lost days―
                                                                 fallen grasses pointing
                                                                 their light into the snow

                                                                                 

                                                                 

                                                                   Composer's Notes

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