The Sounds of Dew

A poem by Chris Hoskins, inspired by the day she sang in Symphony Hall.

The sounds of dew

Yesterday, we were in good voice
like the curlew’s call from across the moors
Different from those long gone days
when we were swept along with innocence.
Brushing the heather aside.
The beauty of it sliced in half.
The harshness of it as gentle as a childhood.
Then
we called to the curlew
piercing the silence.

But now
today
yesterday’s dew is
still fresh with the memory of it
The pleasure
the energy
the community of voices
Now
I embrace them
while I listen and stroke the heather
and pierce the silence.

Written by Chris Hoskins, 2007