IS THERE A WITNESS NEAR?

   There has fallen a splendid tear

      From the passion-flower at the gate.

She is coming, my dove, my dear;

      She is coming, my life, my fate;

The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;"

      And the white rose weeps, "She is late;"

The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;"

      And the lily whispers, "I wait."

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

(Excerpt from Come Into The Garden, Maud)

“Is there a witness near?” is a question asked to me upon my first step into the garden, as the orchestra readies itself. The piece opens with a deep breath. The myna bird provides the starting note and thus begins the fluttering, the burrowing, the babbling, the slithering, the scurrying, and the chattering. The musicians of the ensemble perform in accompaniment to its blossoming actors and I alone, am the audience.

This work retells long hours of noticing, being astonished, of curiosity and of being of the earth. When nature reveals its mysteries, I am a witness.