At an Outdoor Concert
Will you recall, daughter, that summer evening
we settled with your man and my woman
onto a hillside spackled with lovers, families,
and others on blankets or lawn chairs
as Rachmaninoff rose and brimmed over
the bowl of us all with our baggies of nuts,
chips, with veggie dips and uncorked bottles?
Remember how we leaned back, young woman,
as the adagio sostenuto of Concerto 2 began
and the piano wandered up among us
introducing a flute which opened the gate
for that clarinet to sing through its bars
one perfect line of melody able to voice for us
all the sorrow and beauty the universe contains.
Pity those who could not weep nor be glad
to be part of this– the disturbed energy of all
strings with piano that followed, the bright agitation,
then soaring majesty of horns and all parts together–
lifting us until all subsided and the piano sang alone.
Hold onto this glimpse of wholeness, my daughter,
for we belong to each other and all else mixed up
together in that night sky swarming with stars
while candles flickered around us. Hold this close
when it is cloudy or cold and nobody is there.
–with love, from Dad
© Angus Watkins