he plays ostinato
with right pinky as he stands
professorial off to the side
singers take center stage
intense baritone
sunglassed soprano
this is music for a hall
not this oak surrounded stage
with gray-blue skies above
but somehow we are sent
flinging through a wormhole
light years away
and we listen and watch
suspended in liquid space
a cosmic wind buffeting our souls
with constant ostinato
the little finger
of time
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