The cellist's hand <br />waits outside the music <br /> <br />pauses <br />beside his instrument <br /> <br />like an exotic fish <br /> <br />steadying itself <br />in the flow of the music <br /> <br />before dashing out <br />from behind a glowing coral <br /> <br />eagerly snapping up <br />the little notes that swim by <br /> <br />at his head <br />his cello bobs <br /> <br />like a seahorse <br />questioning <br /> <br />all that is <br />happening <br /> <br />as he tries to enter <br />the same stream <br /> <br />(despite Heraclitus's advice) <br /> <br />.. twice. <br /> ******* <br />For 3 wonderful nights over Christmas in the Chiesa San Vidal in Venice we watched with delight the cello playing of Nazzareno Balduin of the Interpreti Veneziani. His body transformed itself into the music as he played with such gusto and grace. This poem was written in praise of him in the still moment before he entered a piece...his hand floating in the air...stroking the music and taming it. Even when not playing he was playing! And doing so...so beautifully! So...beautifully!<br /><br />Dónall Dempsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-seahorse-questioning-new-year-poem-for-onelia/
