Curt Siffert's Piano Musings

I'm trying to drive this car, but it doesn't steer, it has no brakes, and the doors don't even open. There are wrecks all around me, cars and trucks turned upside-down, but none of them appear damaged. The traffic rules don't make any sense. And just when I think I'm getting somewhere, this giant toddler reaches down and grabs me.

It had a good run, but it'll probably turn into a swamp soon.

It's Monday night. Sunday's service went well. But it's halfway through rehearsal, the break was too short, shoulders are slumped, people are leaning back in their chairs. The sopranos are giggling about something unholy. Time to focus for one more runthrough.

We had to hack through the brush to get there. It wasn't mist that hid it, just miles of desolation and occasional thickets.

He needs no food and is not rooted to a spot. But he also has no place to go, and cannot enjoy the warmth of the sun or the touch of a stranger. The world's beauty is only an apparition to him.

He's clumsy - graceless with his flying, always spilling things. Takes some wrong turns. Sometimes he just makes a real mess of things. It probably frustrates him that he'll never live up to his sister.

The kids are stuck inside, waiting out the rain. But the merry-go-round slowly moves as the puddles grow.

You've forgotten something. It's important. It's about yourself. It's buried in yourself, and you've forgotten. But you'll be reminded. You'll hear hints of it from time to time. You'll hear more when you're ready. You'll remember when you're ready.

Tommy and I keep trying to sneak up on the swamp monsters. We have to be really careful because they're sleeping. We have to be quiet. But Chrissy keeps asking us questions! We didn't want to bring her along, she keeps ruining everything!

It was over two tons. The pastor worried it was too big. It moved slowly through the air, helped by cables and the crane. It was impossible. But then it fit.

She owns it herself. Sometimes she feels a little out of her element, but it's still hers. It rocks her gently. And sometimes it's a little intense. But it's hers.

It is night. It had rained. You're leaving, and it doesn't matter what comes next.

The second chance, bestowed to those that don't expect it and don't realize they deserve it.

It starts with a gathering. Healthy ideals. A gentle church is formed, and it grows - hopefully not too quickly.

He's seven, and tough. He might take your ice cream. Or maybe he'll make you swallow your bubble gum.

It's Sunday afternoon. That period of time between chapel and dinner, that mental space between doing chores and doing nothing. A town's memories are created.

It's the slightly sweeter life - the poetry of stillness and destination from the slightly different path.

It used to be a nice playground. But the teeter totter's rusty. The swings have broken chains. There's probably broken glass somewhere.

Despite popular belief, camels have been known to shimmy. It is a rare occurrence because camels are apt to conserve their energy. But with enough of a water source, they'll shimmy, stoop, and strut. They're better than you might think, although not by a lot.

A bunch of kids got into that belfry tower by that abandoned church over by the cemetery yard. They don't know what they're getting into.