Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Magpie Tales - 48 / Poem: I Can Imagine

I Can Imagine

Somewhere between the cotton weave
of a sheer web smeared across the flatness
of old sheets of inked notes silent
on pages as brittle as the print is delicate;

and the stuffy air of a concert hall
far off in some other time, I can imagine
the Cantata’s rising echo of voice
on the tail of instrumentation

jostling back and forth 
each fighting for their due
recognition— the orchestra
in a winning moment heeds

the directors baton— going allegro.
Voices bow to strings and horns
until a disquieting roll of timpani ushers in 
one final melding of chorus and instruments.

2011 © - Michael A. Wells

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