A Desert Morning

New piece, still a work in progress.

Etude for Two Clarinets: A Desert Morning Desert

When with the skin you do acknowledge drought,

The dry in the voice, the lightness of feet, the fine

Flake of the heat at every level line;

When with the hand you learn to touch without

Surprise the spine for the leaf, the prickled petal,

The stone scorched in the shine, and the wood brittle;

Then where the pipe drips and the fronds sprout

And the foot-square forest of clover blooms in sand,

You will lean and watch, but never touch with your hand.

-Josephine Miles

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