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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
Copyright ©
Howard Osborne
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