MAESTRO

MAESTRO He knew all along that it would be pressure Not just to conduct but bring out the best This brass band from a mining community Trying to keep it alive, almost their duty An almost forgotten tradition, going west But not just their talent by any measure The leader, hailing from a nearby village Himself originally a bass trombone player Remembering their fight for a living wage Now to stand there proud upon the stage A few years older now, and much greyer To win the contest, something to pillage It’s a complicated arrangement, this piece This year’s selection appears almost cursed Skills needed for this critical interpretation And far too early to plan any celebration Summoning the best, avoiding the worst His steely stare reminiscent of a cockatrice It starts well, with all in time and in tune The melody soars, and the audience gasps He even smiles at the perfect performance This band a fine example of transformance And such distinctive play the judge grasps One last movement and it’ll be over soon It ends on that tearjerk of a major chord And then sudden silence from the crowd Slowly waking with thunderous applause Being on top form today, the main cause The band’s supporters, cheering out loud A maestro’s contribution can’t be ignored