He saw twelve cellos once in silent choir,
like bathers poised and dripping by the wall
to leap beyond a lifeguards beckoning.
The shop was open: RENTAL & REPAIR
OF DOUBLE-BASSES, CELLOS, VIO-
LINS BY EXPERT. Bows and strings.
One oscillating wave . . . the moving air
submerged him in its tide. The full
rooms “hummm” refracted, flooding
through the prism of his ear;
one tone widened to display all
tones. The spectrum of all things
a man could speak and hear
rainbowed in his mind and he must kneel:
the umber trees with burnt-sienna sheen
reveal their music in a prayer
that he can learn and tell
in praise that these carved woods will sing.
Still Life, Still Sacred
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