The Everyday Enchantment of Music
A rough sound was polished until it became
a smoother sound, which was polished
until it became music.
Then the music was polished until it became
the memory of a night in Venice
when tears of the sea fell from the Bridge
of Sighs,
which in turn was polished until it ceased
to be and in its place stood the empty
home of a heart in trouble.
Then suddenly there was sun and the music
came back and traffic was moving
and off in the distance, at the edge of the city,
a long line of clouds appeared,
and there was thunder, which, however
menacing, would become music, and memory
of what happened after Venice would begin,
and what happened after the home of the
troubled heart broke in two would also begin.
