Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Fiddle Music

He stood at the bus stop that morning
and over the noise of the traffic
he thought he was hearing a fiddle
but couldn’t tell where it was coming from—
maybe an overhead window?
Didn’t have time to go look for it.

At work while the AC was humming
his co-workers listened to radio:
broadcasts of folk-music festivals,
talk-shows, weather and news channels.
The random assemblage of noises
made a fragment of tune that he recognized.

At dusk, when the fiddle played loudest
a tune he could almost remember
he sat by the window that evening
was washing with splashes of copper
and murmured a prayer he’d forgotten
and listened for distant reminders.

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