Words come awkward, as if huddling, malconent, in some dissenting portion of of my brain -- one which which disdains the ranks and wheels of my more regimented tenants: lines and lines of code.
Last night, neither the soft embrace of a deep couch nor the smiling words of a dear friend could convince my enervated mind to set aside the cadence of its weary feet.
But later that evening, my dragging march became a dance. During a rehearsal with the Hershey Symphony, the music soared. My mind had already been spent, my focus drained. But such strains live infused with the vitality of the soul.
July 4th, the symphony leads an evening of music and fireworks on the grounds of the Penn State Hershey Medical Center. I can't wait.