Evening Concert
He waves his arms greatly then softly
pushing and pulling the sounds
aloft
A high piccolo touches the roof
whilst cymbals crash.
Comes at last
by the hands of
Maestro
his white baton held
notes linger
He rocks back and forth
slicing the air bringing
vibrations
from little to big
from stretched to blown
air screeching faster, faster
climbing up and down
Maestro
sets the pace
his hair flies round
What pipe speaks now?
What bow pulls
itself up and over
set strings?
A boom together
hedges hearts in
anticipation
of future shocks
Oh the glory of muted sound
asunder and vast crescendos
reaching
hearts a wonder
on the back seats of
Innuendos riding high
the decrescendos
alas
the Sound and Fury
cease
Michaella Lazarus
February 24, 2016
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