The Pianist’s Fingers
Thunder rumbles in the
distance
on a cloudy day.
The music teacher tells his
child
that God is warming up,
limbering His fingers,
playing His scales
before the concert,
a burst of chords,
irregular rhythm, melody
of rain and wind,
and the light show.
The child no longer fears
thunder
or lightning.
He settles down
inside to watch
the storm.
Marianne Szlyk is the editor
of The Song Is... Recently, she published her second chapbook, I
Dream of Empathy, with Flutter Press. Her first, Listening to Electric
Cambodia, Looking Up at Trees of Heaven, was published by Kind of a
Hurricane Press. Her poems have appeared in Long Exposure, Of/with, bird's
thumb, Solar Nation, Quill and Parchment, Silver Birch Press' series, Jellyfish
Whispers, Napalm and Novocaine, Poppy Road Review, and other online
and print venues including Kind of a Hurricane Press' anthologies.
I really like this one. What a wonderful mental picture of thunderstorms.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Dee. We have certainly been getting our fill of thunderstorms lately.
DeleteEnjoyed your poem very much
ReplyDeleteThank you, Ronald. :)
ReplyDeleteGood write, Marianne. I enjoyed it. Thank you for sharing and continued blessings!
ReplyDelete-MJ (www.tgbtgpublictions.com)
Thank you very much, Maurice. I'm glad that you enjoyed this piece. :)
DeleteThanks Marianne. I will think of this poem when I hear thunder.
ReplyDeleteAll full of music.
Thank you, Mary Jo. :) Hope that Wisconsin is less hot than it has been.
Delete