Martin Robertson

Now and Then

How not to listen to music

The music parts and joins, parts

like strands of hair under a comb,

like currents traced in foam

on fast water.  

 

My thoughts

lift from the stream, dance upon

the secret motions of the air,

there and here, up, down,

settle at last back on the stream,

the water swirling under them,

sure on its own course, unaware.