Bob Dylan's " New Morning " arrived today . A Christmas present from middle sister,who is so very good at sending cards and remembering birthdays, She insists on sending presents " Well it's my thing " says she , bless her. even though the rest of us have long since stopped bothering . I've not listened to Bob Dylan for ages. Listening to him now I'm transported back in time to all night parties of the 60's, drinking and listening to music while sitting on the floor , one LP after the other or the same one over and over again. The sound made by the scratches in the record became part of the music experience. Three Angels is the track playing right now - a new one for me 
Three angels up above the street,
Each one playing a horn,
Dressed in green robes with wings that stick out,
They've been there since Christmas morn.
The wildest cat from Montana passes by in a flash,
Then a lady in a bright orange dress,
One U-Haul trailer, a truck with no wheels,
The Tenth Avenue bus going west.
The dogs and pigeons fly up and they flutter around,
A man with a badge skips by,
Three fellas crawlin' on their way back to work,
Nobody stops to ask why.
The bakery truck stops outside of that fence
Where the angels stand high on their poles,
The driver peeks out, trying to find one face
In this concrete world full of souls.
The angels play on their horns all day,
The whole earth in progression seems to pass by.
But does anyone hear the music they play,
Does anyone even try?
1970
andtime for bed , An incredibly sleepy dozy day .