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Poem
The Concert


In a crowded concert hall musicians stir.
Coming to life, the wind slowly swings a loose screen door.
Half a mile away, the wide open door is but a dot
Diminishing the darkness from the heavens above.
Through, shines a spotlight
a single stalactite of the sun;

A note sweeps across the hall, amidst the chattering of insects.
Hearts pound, fists clench and tremble, 
In the desert, heat shimmering carries a whimpering,
awaiting the breaking of drought.
Cumulous swirls.  Dust. Blackened bunches of grass swept free from war hardened roots.
The orchestra tunes. A rolling clap echoing off cliff and canyon walls.
Demanding attention. The Chaotic warm-up decrescendos, 
falling away and the now darkened hall waits in silence.

The conductor, lifts one hand gingerly,
mirroring the gods, lightly commanding the elements.
First violinist appears and bows dutifully.
Taking her seat in the company.
Then, slowly, painfully, music begins.
Soft as down, distant, slow.
All ears crane to catch the first drops lightly falling on sweltering desert stone.
A simple melody, yet boldly wrote
to saturate. Composed solely to touch the lives of those who know.
Picking up speed, loose and free, diving harmonies lifting morale, settling dreams.
Running down trunks and off limbs
dancing down canyons, pattering on tin
Lathering every pattern, every page and music stand
Note and instrument
There, for all in the dim to see
The resounding proof 
of a hope that literally floats on the breeze.  

Then, brass unwrap mutes and salute,
with percussive cracks, pounding the steaming ground.
Strings float in and out in torrents, near, far, wave after wave.
A thousand voices breaching and expanding beyond the horizon.
Surpassing the sun's intensity.
Then, lightning flashes coda and the final cadence booms.

Uproarious applause.
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