THE SONG: Magnolia Wind, by Guy Clark

I’d rather sleep in a box like a bum on the street
Than a fine feather bed without your little ol’ cold feet
And I’d rather be deaf, dumb and stone blind
Than to know that your mornings will never be mine

And I’d rather die young than to live without you
And I’d rather go hungry than to eat lonesome stew
You know it’s once in a lifetime and it won’t come again
It’s here and it’s gone on a magnolia wind

I’d rather not walk through the garden again
If I can’t catch your scent on a magnolia wind

So if it ever comes time that it comes time to go
Sis, pack up your fiddle. Sis, pack up your bow
And if I can’t dance with you then I won’t dance at all
I’ll just sit this one out with my back to the wall

I’d rather not hear pretty music again
If I can’t catch your fiddle on a magnolia wind
If I can’t catch your scent on a magnolia wind

THE NOTE

Hey Cold Feet,

I think this is one of the most lovely songs I've ever heard. Nothing would make up for not having your "little ol' cold feet" on me in the night. It's one of the single most sublime pleasures of my life.

Love,

Foot Warmer.

THE GR PRINCIPLE

Appreciate that it is the small and the seemingly mundane things that cleverly hide the sublime and the sacred. Appreciation is more than nice, it is the soul of wisdom.