sounds of tuning, riffs on scales,
quiet murmur of voices
…tap, tap, tap!
baton poised midair
backs straighten, scooch forward on chair
instrument to lips…inhale & hold!
downbeat!
overture like sea swells, its echoes will return
buoyant upon Being, Wisdom, Power
Holiness, Justice, Goodness and Truth
right hand, bare arm, slicing air
same as split the sea
breathing stones, hallowed players, royal horns and winds
roll of stirring drums, clashing cymbals
the symphony has begun.
weightless, suspended on the quarter rest
a novice whispers “Maestro!”
M. Glodo
Mike Glodo 