Waiting For The Orchestra
I’m in the gallery, as high up in the concert hall
as it’s possible to go without wings.
High enough and steep enough
to just slightly trigger my fear of heights.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned
over this long comedy of errors,
it’s that music saves me when all else fails.
A trumpeter in khaki shorts is warming up.
A harpist is tuning to the piano.
I came early for the pre-concert talk,
beating everyone except four elderly folks in their box.
The room is majestic even without the music.
It reminds me to be awed.
That’s important, in these days of scarcity.
/ / /
24 April 2022
(NaPoWriMo Day 24)