Name This Instrument

The first time I heard this I was in disbelief. As he readied to play he rosined a long bow. And he played with a flair of beauty and motif, “On a hill far away” the notes softly and slow. Without breaking his stride “In the garden”, he played. I heard voices of angels in tune through it all. The heads bow, their lips move, the congregation prayed. Not intending to preach, someone issued the call. Through it all the strange notes woefully made demand. Like a Stradivari, rosined strings strike their hearts. “Oh why not tonight” played, commanding those at hand, with small pricks of conscience from the music’s tearful darts At the end, the blind man, with the bow cross his chair. Swore he heard the soft voice, Seraphim singing slow. Saying, now find the thing that was played if you care should you please rearrange the anagram below CASUAL SWIM (two words) ©This poem in anapestic tetrameter for Nette’s “sound madness” contest 24 Oct 2011 Charles Henderson