Vivaldi

Written at the church of St. Martin in the Fields, London, while listening to a Vivaldi cello concerto on May 25, 2001.

Vivaldi

by Gideon Burton

On these crescendos, brushing toward a soft

alignment, something heavy seems to light:

a slight , accusing signal, less than night,

and just as suddenly compelled aloft.

The music, rising, in perfecting fades.

Its blush and color thunders in its rush

toward a last parenthesis of breath.

A death perhaps. Perhaps a shift in clef.

The even ground tugs skyward in the crush

of green ascension, morning heaved in spades

another time for this, another peak,

another supposition given full

disclosure, casual of where it pulls

serrated phrases on us, strongly weak.

Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr - kardboard604