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Where Musicians Lead
One Sunday morning
three men pick and strum
curved guitars under glowing lights.
Another draws a bow
over submissive strings.
A fifth holds his harmonica to lips,
closes eyes and blows angelic sounds.
The woman at the piano reads no music,
but her fingers skip and play
grace notes.
Musicians, like shepherds, lead;
worshippers follow,
inhaling and bursting forth
in a song of praise,
lifting words of old
to the newborn king.
After the service,
the unhurried musicians
let the music run,
urging echoes to linger
around a babe in a manger
whose song is never done.
Pat Durmon, 2012
One Sunday morning
three men pick and strum
curved guitars under glowing lights.
Another draws a bow
over submissive strings.
A fifth holds his harmonica to lips,
closes eyes and blows angelic sounds.
The woman at the piano reads no music,
but her fingers skip and play
grace notes.
Musicians, like shepherds, lead;
worshippers follow,
inhaling and bursting forth
in a song of praise,
lifting words of old
to the newborn king.
After the service,
the unhurried musicians
let the music run,
urging echoes to linger
around a babe in a manger
whose song is never done.
Pat Durmon, 2012
