In which he sees her radiant in red-bronze at the end of long hallway - no, not "sees", but hears her laugh over

the steady silence of the assembled spirits, a lighthouse's roving spear which tows and pulls him shorewards even in his sleep's dark,

towards her bare shoulders to place his palms

• which haven't touched a lyre in years - upon, as if he were snatching the oars from Charon's grip.

Buoy's header changed to reflect the season, borrowing my friend Joao's lovely, and mysterious, photograph of a Berlin autumn windshield. He has also made many other lovely fall photos, which deserve a look or two.

I was thinking about his antics here in Atlanta, as I was hiking around Lullwater earlier this morning.

John, Paco & Larry play an acoustic version of Mahavishnu Orchestra's "Meeting of Spirits"