I was wandering
like the others when
Music!
rang out over our heads,
The Fiddler was benched
in the square--

with an instrument
strung: beautiful red
strings.
They were quivering
like tendons,
The Fiddler plucked
music from them,
from us--

Strangers danced about,
silly at first
and then slower
confused and close--

I remember the spinning,
the blind Fiddler grinning,
the red strings singing
their promises to us,
I was dancing
like the others

and in all of our loneliness
we danced our feet raw
to the tune
of The Fiddler's jig:
A Call To Threadbare Hearts