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Information Parts & score available through: Shawnee Press www.shawneepress.com

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The Great Spangled Fritillary

1. In the Chrysalis

I twist in my chrysalis
dreaming of violets--
their scented nurturing,
their heart-shaped leaves
on which I fed as caterpillar.
I was in love with violets,
I even think in violet light,
but here come the sun's bright
fingers unfastening my bleary-
eyed emergence. I split
the cobwebs with my wings
like sails unfurling--
the dawn's breath flutters them
new and wet with secrecy
on the oaktree bough.

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2. First Flight

I am afraid.
I dip.
I dive.
I am clumsy.
I am a flying laundress
wet sheets for wings--
will they ever dry?
I hate my name--
if only I were Star Spangled,
that at least would be patriotic!
I wish I were Pearly Crescentspot,
Angelic Hairstreak, or Sylvan Angelwing.
Ouch!-- a thistle's thorn!
Oh!-- a cow's nose!
But look!-- I triumph
high above the lake,
my reflection necklace-like
around its throat,
its waters that could drown
a million of me.
I'm grateful I'm not Questionmark,
Lost Metalmark, or Dingy Arctic,
or worst of all the Ruddy Daggerwing!

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3. Under the Full Moon

It's peaceful here
beneath the stars;
my wings handsome
in moonlight--
orange/purple/lemon--
I think the night becomes me:
skating down the moonbeams
on my brush-feet, I am
night's magician
conjuring the breeze,
the attention of sighs.
From the stars I learn
a faith, a steadfastness.
I'm not lonely--
it's just that I am young
and airborn, passing now
through shadows not menacing
but kind
like well-earned sleep.

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4.March

It's morning.
I am confident,
sipping nectar
from the Blackeyed Susans,
their tongue-petals
stroking me with sun
in the moist meadows.
I am palpitating,
palpitating,
high above the seething
grasses. I am glad
to be myself:
the Great Spangled Fritillary,
female of the species,
proud and in my prime:
I soar unafraid
knowing my destiny:
In mid-air I'll mate,
a stroking of wings
(a whispering of speckled fans)--
then hide myself in mossy
bark deep in a wood
and later lay my eggs
near violets-- to violets
I'll return. Even now
the safety of their scent
bears me aloft
high in the joyous morning
this spring day!

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Christopher Hewitt (Feb 2, 1946 - July 13, 2004)

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Program Notes:
After I finished the composition of The Great Spangled Fritillary, I asked Christopher to write a poem for it. His words would serve as a program note for the work. I generated a sound score on a computer for him to hear, and we discussed the events of the music together. Afterwards, he wrote the accompanying poem. It surpasses any technical notes I could provide, and it creates a magical context for the music and for the listener's imagination.

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Premiered: 1988 at Houghton Chapel at Wellesley College in Wellesley, Massachusetts, Nancy Zeltsman, marimba & Sharon Leventhal, violin

Recording: Marimolin: Marimolin, GM Recordings, 1988, Nancy Zeltsman, marimba & Sharon Leventhal, violin

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