Rebecca and I have been away from home for three weeks now as the world has grappled with the way things suddenly are. It's strange being someplace so beautiful. New York is like a distant roar over the horizon as I calm myself to the birdsongs and babbling brooks of New Hampshire. For moments I can trick my mind into believing I'm on vacation, and I allow those moments to wash over me because I know other harder moments will soon visit. I put off real worries about job security and disease and I breathe the fresh air. I take a walk with my wife and find a pretty view. I enjoy an evening with my parents. I tend to the fire. I write music. I remind myself that there is an end to this, and that in the mean time I have a lot. I'm grateful, but I'm also scared. This is not a vacation, but this place is beautiful all the same.
lyrics
Old wind
You're older than the mountain
Blow me over
Clear across the county
And I've been gone now
For a little a while
Rent a place
At the far end of the river
All I've got
Is what I what I want to give her
And we've not been back
For a little while
Stand with you looking out
At what could be oblivion
Smile as we peer across
The chasm into dawn
Woke at
The wrong end of a dream
And morning's
Even stranger than it seems
And I been dreaming
For a little while
Count the birdsongs
Drifting on the breeze
And count your blessings
And share a few with me
I'll hold on to them
For you for a while
Stand with you looking out
At what could be oblivion
Smile as we peer across
The chasm into dawn