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Month 5:25 “Fanfare for Seven Flutes”


Piccolos & flutes silver curved alto, tabled. Patient for the turn from Argentinian
Dance  to Fanfare when the woman in black  walks left pauses lays down her instrument, reaches for another: silent flawless icicles,  frozen until put to fingertips. Placed to lips they melt, turn my snowbanks to fuscia, violet, marigold, rose.

by Therese L. Broderick

NOTES:  I wrote this poem after attending a stunning flute concert in honor of Parents Weekend at my daughter’s college. On the day of the concert, October 29th, an untimely storm was covering campus trees with snow and ice.  Against the white snow, the vibrant autumn colors of remaining leaves — red, orange, yellow, green — looked so festive that they reminded me of the magical Fanfare piece of music played by the flutists.

About ThereseLBroderick

Independent community poet living in Albany, New York USA.

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