Over and Now

Cosi fan Tutte has finally come to a close.  At one point in the finale of the second act yesterday I realized that I was playing beautiful music and had been for the past two hours.  If only I was graced with the ability to remember this a little more frequently.  How often does beauty pass by, unnoticed?  How often do I judge the libretto to be offensive and close myself to the harmony and melody supporting it?  Maybe there's something beautiful happening right now.  The rain has pushed away the hot humid air and the cicadas are asleep.  I think the evening doesn't know what to do with herself, sitting here, soaking in the new breeze.