A Monday in March

Near the music school on Monday evening, the great oaks, arms as thunderous as Thor’s, are still mainly green. Sometimes a leaf drifts down, swooping from side to side to land, light and bright, on the damp grass.

A man walks by, bent awkwardly from some medical cause, in a baseball shirt several sizes too big. His hair is long, hiding his face in a greasy blonde swathe. His legs looks short in grey tracksuit pants. I walk among the humming pigeons feeling how lucky it is to move easily.

Inside, my son begins learning a Foo Fighters beat – a little memorial from an eight year old to Taylor Hawkins who died on the weekend. It’s fast and syncopated and I watch his hands and feet fight it like a tongue twister. He persists and persists and he gets there and I feel like cheering. I am behind him and his teacher, watching their heels bounce and their backs, alertly straight. They are connected via headphones. I am an outsider but I clap quietly anyway.

corellas on tympanic wings
       surge by the roadside
    cherry blossoms out of season

Written for Frank Tassone’s dVerse Haibun Monday “Make reference to cherry blossoms”

21 thoughts on “A Monday in March

      1. OH yes. It makes drums a lot less intimidating for your average home. You can control the volume a lot better and you can buy sets that take up a lot less space. It’s pretty cool. Of course, our son likes to play on acoustic sets whenever he can. Much more fun. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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