THREE-CRICKET EVENING

I saw Him once –
He was playing Dvořák
in a string quartet,
allegro ma non troppo,
His bare hands rippling through wheatstems
as He crossed the fields.


Words and image by Sarah Rehfeldt. Please do not copy without my permission.

Poem published in Dappled Things, vol. 6, issue 3 (2011) and reprinted in Time Of Singing (Summer 2016).