.
CONCERTMASTER
.
Gathered around a central violin
is a multitude of ways and wages.
.
One solid, single note--
as if the norm were
.
focus
.
concentration
.
--the unison that brings God down
from his holy hammock in the skies.
. . .
Mozart
inevitable as mundane Monday
or Bach
as pure as profane Sunday
could well be.
. . .
The rosin squeaks along the bow
and the hands are tired.
Arthritis creeps upon them daily.
.
But that long, sweet note
she holds at night in sleeping,
‘til the rough chaos of shifting chairs
comes ‘round again
.
in the shiftless light
of morning.
.
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