Microcosmos

 Without the power of the symphony,
Time and silence shape sound to meaning.
This lonely orchestra of fingers –
Lacking the comfort of the friendly violins –
Plays for a time with thoughtful passion,
Then stops . . . the sound dies to silence.
The empty music of the hammers
Dropping echoes in the hall . . .
And I can find no other melodies
To fill the empty corners of the silence.

1981