Our Sun, Our Moon
A glittering sun looks west in morning sky, a melancholy moon returns his haughty gaze.
Elgar at Birchwood
Horse-drawn over country they arrived, man with the nation's music in his head,
The Night Wind
Like a soft drum roll or a bass recorder, the rising moan of a night time wind
In a Church
A candle lit for him, a candle lit for her, in quiet amidst twelve shining tongues of light.