Sheep May Safely Graze
—Civic Youth Symphony, 1962
Three years of sawing my way through Saturday rehearsals—second row, second fiddle. After the Christmas recital of Handel’s Messiah, we’d turn to Bach, Vivaldi. Same routine every year.
How I longed for a bit of Bartok, Shostakovich—even a little bluegrass. After practice, I’d run home to spin my wobbly vinyls: Muddy Waters, Belafonte—muting the Baroque’s florid blare.
old violin case
still perfumed with rosin . . .
every note changed
with that first stolen kiss
in the dark auditorium
Drifting Sands Haibun#35. March 2026
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