I hear a cadence in the air, a quiet whisper which grows
from a slow heart-beating pulse, to a thunderous lilt.
Music, knit from the frayed cloth of distant memories,
a half-remembered tapestry of percussion, strings, wind
and a boy’s voice, calling out to seagulls who rise in flight,
madly cawing as they flee the furious drumsteps of his pursuit.
Thump!Thump!Thump!
Feet stomping in tune to the pounding notes.
Thump!Thump!Thump!
Crossing and leaping, arms as pale as ivory piano keys
thrown out for balance, spinning in place, faster, faster!
A storming crescendo of sand, scattered seashells and impish glee,
until the child falls to his back, the sinews of his instrument reverberating.
Thump!Thump!Thump!
The bass line thrum of a heart beating.
Thump!Thump!Thump!
Watching white wings circle in duets to the rhythm of the tide.
