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

Steve barnwell, So Close, So Far Away