Not Exactly Music

Like a drummer.
Like a preacher.
Like a parent or lover,
you beat the same rhythm,

not exactly music
as much as a tattoo, a cadence
to set the tone
and cause the heart to dance,

to rise, or retreat
depending
not on the music played,
but the music heard.

About this poem

Too often, what we say, and what is heard seem to have little to do with each other. It’s a maddening thing sometimes, and a magical thing sometimes, but it often leaves me in wonder that we manage to communicate at all.

The picture was taken at Mount Vernon in Virginia. Home of George Washington.

Tom