Program Note:

In the summer of 2020, a few months into the pandemic lockdown, I watched the International Space Station fly over my parents’ house in New Jersey. It was a stunning sight—a bright, shining dot appearing out of the darkness, zooming from one end of the horizon to the other in under a minute. At the same time, my family and I watched a livestream of the astronauts on the space station, who were conducting a spacewalk outside the ISS at that very moment. On the camera, you could see the outline of the east coast below them while they worked, and presumably somewhere on that landmass was a speck that was me. After six months of near-total isolation due to the COVID-19 pandemic,

I was moved by the beauty of this moment, and I felt in communion with all those who had looked up in wonder at the sky.

As I researched texts for this piece, I came across some celestial poetry by Sara Teasdale that evoked some of the wonder, loneliness, and comfort I felt in that moment last July. Reading her texts, I feel connected to Teasdale in many ways--like me, she was a New Yorker; like me, she was drawn to art after struggling with poor health in her childhood. Her poems are beautiful, direct and unpretentious, with words that fit perfectly set to music. Given the opportunity to write for Mikaela Bennett, a singer with a voice that sounds as if it were delivered directly from the heavens, I felt Teasdale's night poems were the perfect medium for this piece. I want to thank Midsummer's Music for selecting me as composer- in-residence this year, it is a joy to be back to in-person collaborations and music-making again.

- Will Healy, 2021

Texts:

I. At Night

We are apart; the city grows quiet between us,

She hushes herself, for midnight makes heavy her eyes,

The tangle of traffic is ended, the cars are empty,

Five streets divide us, and on them the moonlight lies.

Oh are you asleep, or lying awake, my lover?

I send you my thoughts—the air between us is laden,

My thoughts fly in at your window, a flock of wild birds.

II. The Cloud

I am a cloud in the heaven’s height

The stars are lit for my delight,

Tireless and changeful, swift and free,

I cast my shadow on hill and sea—

But why do the pines on the mountain’s crest

Call to me always, “Rest, rest?”

I throw my mantle over the moon

And I blind the sun on his throne at noone,

Nothing can tame me, nothing can bind,

I am a child of the heartless wind—

But oh the pines on the mountain’s crest

Whispering always, “Rest, rest".”

III. Winter Stars

I went out at night alone;

The young blood flowing beyond the sea

Seemed to have drenched my spirit’s wings—

I bore my sorrow heavily.

But when I lifted up my head

From shadows shaken on the snow,

I saw Orion in the ast

Burn steadily as long ago.

From the windows in my father’s house,

Dreaming my dreams on winter nights,

I watched Orion as a girl

Above another city’s lights.

Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too,

The world’s heart breaks beneath its wars,

All things are changed, save in the east

The faithful beauty of the stars.