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Choral

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Dust of Snow is a setting of a Robert Frost poem. I set it as a chamber choir piece that is a capella. I use voices to set a scene of a solemn winter landscape.
Dust of Snow – Robert Frost (1874 – 1963)
The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued.

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I got the idea for Stars while thinking about a very cold night I spent stargazing with friends. I remember the feeling of awe and wonder, while fighting the urge to run back to my warm sleeping bag. I came across the poem and wrote the piece in about a day, something that is very rare for me.
I saw no way, the heavens were stitched (378): Emily Dickinson (1830 – 1986)
I saw no Way—The Heavens were stitched— I felt the Columns close— The Earth reversed her Hemispheres— I touched the Universe—
And back it slid—and I alone— A Speck upon a Ball— Went out upon Circumference— Beyond the Dip of Bell

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I started writing this piece in early 2023. My outlets for my personal struggles are usually kept in my songwriting journal. However, as I read the text by Robert Frost- I instantly connected. The notion of struggling with forgiveness and realizing that living in the mistakes of others is not worth the struggle put on oneself is beautiful to me. Above that, it’s a withdrawal from oneself that ultimately leads to more suffering. This realization in my personal life was not a sudden “Pang” for me- this is reflected in the music. To me, it was a changing—morphing thought.
A Dream Pang: Robert Frost (1874 – 1963)
I had withdrawn in forest, and my song Was swallowed up in leaves that blew alway; And to the forest edge you came one day (This was my dream) and looked and pondered long, But did not enter, though the wish was strong: You shook your pensive head as who should say, ‘I dare not—too far in his footsteps stray— He must seek me would he undo the wrong. Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all
Behind low boughs the trees let down outside; And the sweet pang it cost me not to call And tell you that I saw does still abide. But ’tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof, For the wood wakes, and you are here for proof.