"It is a rare few who have managed to build upon—rather than merely mimic—the short piano pieces of Keith Jarrett. In that group belongs Tom Splitt, with his at once restless and restful improvisations." - Neil Tesser, Chicago Reader/USA Today



There’s a rhythm in the falling snow
A gentle steady flow
A wonder, too, that anything so light
Could fall at all


O what magnificent thick snow
Blows across this wooded gray landscape
And my tender, desolate heart
Coming down like down
Mounting on the frozen rocks beneath the trees
Melting in the warmth of my heart
To assuage the love that sears my soul


You have nearly silenced the river
With your cold, cold hand
Only the faintest murmur
From a current that refuses to surrender

But to my astonished joy
I hear snowflakes hitting trees
The still, small, quiet voice I could never hear
Above the rushing river