On The Days

 

I’m learning a piece called I Giorni which means “The Days”. Days may be passed, spent, or seized. I used to say when walking my dog Shadow, ‘The days of Shadow are good days.’ Those were days that came to an end. The days of the pandemic are strange days. These must also reach an ending.

While some parts of I Giorni are hard for me to play, parts of some days are hard to stay. Some are grim indeed.  But each of the days has its purpose.  Rainy days for growing. Shiny days for walking. Holidays for resting. Each day has its times. Who blames the high sun of noonday for not being the pale light of dawn, with intriguing expectations? The golden hour so perfect for photography is the dog watch of evening. Short, but excellent.

While merely a child, you’re a baby; toddler; primary; teenaged: growing into adult knowledge. For life. While merely aged, you’re old; an admirable antique; then an amiable ancient; eventually a surprising sage: growing on to wise reflections, should we live so long. Seeing through the ways. Tasting how the times play to themselves. Listening to the ages and the days. For good.