The peepers were singing last night on Halcyon Pond. Spring has whispered that she is on her way; the peepers, the most joyful of Spring’s harbingers, have burst into voice. Buds swell and blush with the impending change. The barking frogs will join later, but only when there is no longer a chill in the air. And finally, the full symphony will swell forth when Spring rouses Jeremiah from his winter sleep and he rises to conduct their celebration.
It is clear to me that Stravinsky spent much time on a pond. The discordant and raucous tones that caused such outrage when Sacré du Printemps was debuted are nothing more than the joyous outburst of life as spring wrests the stage from winter. It is the cacophony that reminds us that death is not the end, that life will once again rise up.
Early spring is a magical time. A time when passions stir and magic feels more real. It is a time to contemplate love and myths…
It is a night for the senses
Filled with Daphne’s perfume and silver moonlight,
The still air rouses from its stupor, sounds a solitary note of the wind chime
The dead silence of winter gives way to Spring’s song.
It is a night to paint my lover’s skin with Daphne-scented moonlight
To trace the silvery perfume over his warm marble skin,
To follow his curves and valleys,
To smell Daphne wafting from the curve of his neck
and taste the silver moonlight on his lips;
To drink perfume from his mouth.
The frog song stops suddenly
Dogs bark at the distance
Far away, losing their urgency
They become part of the night’s song.
It is a night of pure magic and mystery;
A night to dance in the moonlight with flowers strewn in our hair
A night to sing with the frogs
An ancient, pagan song of spring