Gardener at Heart - Book Two

The Percussionist (Wild Rose In Fall)


Musicians lift horns, reeds, and bows;

I stand behind the curving rows;

We’re waiting here in eager pose to put a concert on.


My drumsticks hover like a pair

Of keen antennae in the air;

The audience goes still at their compelling magic charm.


This silent moment, charged with power,

Will open like a time-lapse flower

At that first downward move of our conductor’s raised baton.


I’ve practiced cadence, lilt, and din,

And now I’m hoping once again

The bird of music will fly in and land here on my arm.


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