White leaves rustle
in autumn
To a swinging beat,
marked with ink –
Staff lines,
and sharps
that fall
flat.
Synchronised
To the wave
of a maestro’s
hands.
Camaraderie.
But no words are needed.
A fervent look
From the drummer
Gives away the tempo,
Speed up!
A rehearsed nod
starts an improvised solo
in another mode.
Mixolydian.
We exist on the same
wavelength;
you and I.
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 7:42 AM UTC
White leaves rustle
in autumn
To a swinging beat,
marked with ink –
Staff lines,
and sharps
that fall
flat.
Synchronised
To the wave
of a maestro’s
hands.
Camaraderie.
But no words are needed.
A fervent look
From the drummer
Gives away the tempo,
Speed up!
A rehearsed nod
starts an improvised solo
in another mode.
Mixolydian.
We exist on the same
wavelength;
you and I.
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