A young woman in a wheelchair,
wearing a black nylon poncho spattered with rain,
is pushing herself through the morning.
You have seen how pianists
sometimes bend forward to strike the keys,
then lift their hands, draw back to rest,
then lean again to strike just as the chord fades.
Such is the way this woman
strikes at the wheels, then lifts her long white fingers,
letting them float, then bends again to strike
just as the chair slows, as if into a silence.
So expertly she plays the chords
of this difficult music she has mastered,
her wet face beautiful in its concentration,
while the wind turns the pages of rain.
-Ted Kooser
(Poetry Friday roundup here.)
P.S. The Greece pictures are coming soon! I'm still trying to organize them.
Friday, June 11, 2010
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5 comments:
Such imagery, I can picture her!
A piano player here loves that poem. Thanks for posting!
I adore Ted Kooser.
what a beautiful poem. Thanks for sharing it.
This is beautiful. Thank you!
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