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Matthew Swanson's
Silent Drum
The drummers have gone
Fallen leaves, bells and feathers
All that are left in this parched clearing.
Only yesterday the
actors ended their play,
Only yesterday. The audience clapped and cheered,
The words of the songs they sang
Now no longer remembered.
Shadowy images alone remain.
Maybe the small trees remember,
I'll pick up my cape and mend it.
I'll play my own drum softly,
In this wide, abandoned space
And learn the language of softness from the wind.
Life continues.
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