The Dance of the Woodstove - Ky Burt

My time at Elsewhere went by so fast, and yet the daily mornings by the woodstove, the afternoon walks through downtown Paonia, and the evenings spent sipping tea, writing, and sharing stories with the other residents, seemed like an endless lifetime of comfortable creativity.

And yes the Woodstove…what a metaphor for my process of writing music. At times, I felt that my energy was like a warm simmer, where if I moved away from the heat, I would feel cold, but close enough, things were just right.  Other times I was burning up, popping out idea after idea, excited and motivated.  And other times I was dead cold, looking for fuel for the fire, reaching, flickering the lighter, hoping something would get started.

I set out with the goal to experiment with the process of songwriting at Elsewhere. As a burgeoning songwriter and nationally touring musician, I’ve been writing songs for years, always with the feeling of other responsibilities to attend to.  For this one month retreat in the Gingerbread House, I was able to solely focus on my craft, a privilege and an honor that I was so grateful to enjoy and explore.

The best part was, one of my songs turned out to be about the Woodstove that I so frequently interacted with.  I’ve included the words to that song below. And I look forward to releasing the video that I made with local filmmaker Teya Cranson on my website www.kyburt.com.  Thanks to Elsewhere, the residents, and the community of Paonia for a productive month of honoring the muse.

 

The Wood Stove Song

When the sun is swallowed by the night

And the moon is shining brightly

And the embers are burning alive

While the stars seek to gather

And the crickets cease their chatter

Before the morning after

There’ll be sparks in the wood stove tonight

 

The windows set crooked in the stone

And the firelight dancing on the ceiling

And the mist is rising off the bones

Where the old trees save each other

From the winds of their mother

Before the morning after

There’ll be sparks in the wood stove tonight

 

Leaping silhouette, leaping over the fire

Peering from the darkness, warm to the touch I desire

And its you and me babe, flickers of our dreams

Staring in the image of what we might

And its you and me babe, flickers of our dreams,

Staring in the image of what might be

 

When the moon is shadowed by the light

And the sun is shining brightly

And the birds are chirping up high

While the meadow sways its flowers

And the raincloud pours in showers

Before the golden hour

There’ll be dust in the wood stove,

There’ll be dust in the wood stove.

There’ll be dust in the wood stove.