Music of the World Turning

Today's prompt for Sunday Scribblings: music
I find this a difficult one because there is so much that could be said about it. I think of my mother playing the organ in church and practising her singing lessons. I think of piano lessons from the ages of 6 to 18, and clarinet lessons later as an adult. I think of all the music lessons I sat through with my children - violin, cello, recorder, trumpet, clarinet, singing. I think of my first date with my husband - a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta. I think of what our children call "car music" - the songs we listen to on holiday - the Seekers, Peter Paul and Mary, the Carpenters, Glen Campbell, and others of the same era. Songs we know so well that we can all sing along.

Music is everywhere. Music is on the front page of Saturday's newspaper with an article on the music that surgeons play in the operating theatre. (Do they ask the patients? I wonder. It has been proven that patients can hear when they are supposedly unconscious. If the surgeon likes heavy metal, and the patient doesn't, does it affect the outcome?)

But I have a long "to do" list today. I am going to sneak out of exploring any of these topics and post a poem I wrote some time ago. A poem that arose from my summer evening walks around the neighbourhood - just before Christmas. I am going to put a CD on, sit in the patch of sun that is coming through the window and taking the edge off the winter chill. I am going to take up my pile of mending while listening to Paul Simon and KT Tunstall. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the poem

A Little Night Music

1. Alla marcia

The day’s heat lingers
Through open windows, light spills
into the park. A radio plays jazz.
Somewhere a dog barks,
while the saints go marching
out into the night

2. Allegretto giocoso

School’s out. No homework,
nothing more important to do
than flock on the riverbank
and poke sticks into the water.
“Merry Christmas, Christina’s mum!” they call,
“Merry Christmas” to each other,
to the eels in the shadows,
and “Merry Christmas” to the moon.

3. Allegro appassionata

A lone cicada is playing a cadenza
accompanied by rustling leaves
and hedgehog squeals in the flower bed.
In nearby houses, footsteps in hallways
and the sound of closing doors.