The song of late-night train whistles. The song of birds, of wind whipping branches against the bedroom window. The song of late nights and long afternoons, of keyboard clicks and pen scratches. The song of starting anew and of starting over. The song of business and boredom, of ease and effort. The song of lonely and lively, of walks and wiling. The song of naps and necessities, of groceries and grief. The song of tears and taxidermy, of balconies and back pain. The song of masseuse and muses, of changing and changes. Of nostalgia and newness. Of homesick and hip-sore. Of brilliance and berating. Of revision and renewal. Of silence and sleep. Of poetry and prose, reading and remembering. The song is over. Let a new song take its place.