November 3, 2019

Second stay at church, this time to sing the Faure Requiem. It’s like an old friend now, easy and welcome. My voice is familiar with it, and goes to the right note by long habit. The event was oddly serene, as though we were really singing someone asleep. The change to– or from, I forget which it is–has given me a further hour to wallow in.  Two nights of frost, and the roses fight on.