After the orchestra
The long silence
Sostenuto ad infinitum
Gone the trombones
Stretching their necks
To reach succulent low notes
No flocks of flutes
To feather dark skies
In shimmering arpeggios
Even the violins
So numerous their strain
Outweighed all
Are silent
And the earth sighs
Remembering
A time
When they rejoiced
In rhythms intertwined
While bright brass
Bellowed beside the waterhole
To welcome the rain
When in dry places
Punctuated by gentle footfall
On percussive sand
Caravans of kettledrums
Passed row on row
With ivory in tow
Never more
From oceans octaves deep
Such songs
Nor the wild dance
Of predatory horns
Tracking the solo oboe
Their places empty
While the wind’s whisper
Marks out empty measures
And no hand reaches
To touch the keys
Or raise the pale baton
