THE MUSIC FALLS

From Padstow, driving north
My path is sudden caught
By changing traffic lights

Flicked red: and so I find
I'm paused in some streetscape
From Jeffrey Smart - beneath an arch

Of concrete overpass.
Foot waiting on my brake
I look above and sight

A glistening foliage,
It shivers in the light;
Hangs down beneath a guard-rail, caught

Pendant in the wind
Moving in its energy
I recognize it now as audio

Tape, as somehow caught,
Suspended music in
The air above ? This music hangs

In silent motion, plays
Its melody unheard
And who can know its rhythm

Except the pulsing breeze ?
Why is this music here ?
And the work of whom, I wonder:

Can it be Brahms perhaps ?
Or Bach, Rachmaninoff,
Or Telemann - if not the one

Ludwig Beethoven ? Who
Can know ? Nor even that
It is some music. Yet if not

That's what I choose to think:
To hold my image of this
Twisting tape, in wind-drift motion.

It ripples there above:
The light turns green, my car
Departs to leave this wonder, moving still.

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copyright G D Bolton 2002 - all electronic rights reserved