Today I heard a man
make a flute shout.
It was almost a cough.
Another sat tapping a box
and brushing drums.
There was music throughout.
I stood next to Sarah
the whole time.
She was on a stool,
an inch taller than me.
Thousands of rock posters, records
lined all the walls.
I could see Pete's hat.
The skill of sound was incredible.
Hands moved up and down
the neck of a bass guitar,
once without frets.
One more set of fingers
worked at a banjo,
made the thing beautiful.
That was what happened.
Four men took
wood, metal, strings, skins,
fingers, arms, lips, tongues,
a room of listening people,
and made us all know
that it was beautiful.