Duet By Athenian Morn
Two lovers meet,
Upon the orchestra-pit's dew.
Soft with twilight,
And ragged with the shadows of a rising sun,
In a beautiful silence.
His is a sorrowful trumpet,
A mournful wail,
Saddened note after long saddened note;
The horn's cry filling the empty seats
With the passion of a man,
So recent scorned.
She brings a slow cello,
A deep and thoughtful presence;
The strings take leave of their wooden body,
Moving to the cracks in the ampitheatre's stone,
Their resonance full-soaking the very dew
With a strange energy.
And so the sun rises,
An ochre sheet over an absent audience.
They dance in purposed time,
Speaking great tomes with fluid motion;
The horn and strings weaving,
And woven by,
A symphony this duet to follow.
Soon others enter this charged arena:
A consoling harp,
An encouraging reed,
A supportive clavier,
Liquid and brazen and wonderful,
Influencing the lover's song.
And as the sun draws so to its peak,
The solar warmth at last in every corner,
The hallowed symphony draws to an end
Amid the thunderous gaze of a gathered populace,
All who have been envied spectators of this magical event;
The players leave the orchestral pit,
Their quarrel ended,
Their happiness renewed,
And their song shared.