Gardener at Heart - Book Two

At The Christmas Concert

The choir painted their clothes inky black

And their music brilliant white.

The violinist made friction sing.

The fingers of the pianist were like a herd of deer

Bounding over wet rocks in a snowy field.

The eyes of the soloist shone like stars,

And round golden notes soared out of her mouth

And melted on us like butter on toast.

And if only they had used colored smoke in the pipe organ!

We drank in the music like water.

We clapped like wild horses galloping.

And at the end,

We all sang the anthem like a host of angels.

For that one moment, we were all radiant together.

When it was over,

Some of us hurried out of the auditorium,

Praising God for flush toilets.

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