Be Still.
RenéE Christine Ehle
Eighth Day
In the beginning was a void, an absence,
less than silence.
Then, there was wood, and a lathe.
Smoothed and varnished. Wool washed
and felted, wires pulled
taut between pegs. A hammer,
more than one.
Pedals, rods, bone.
Then, fingers:
Notes and chords, arpeggios.
And there was music,
and there was rest.
And God heard,
and God
sang.
Diane Calvert, Flight into Egypt
.jpg)