by James Gould
White-maned men in masses descend the carpet stairs,
Some cling to long-term mates, or failing that, a railing.
Sections found, rows deciphered, untrustworthy bodies glacial slide
Past ushers young and old, sideways shuffle to their seats, till settled.
Programs spread, the forgetting of body begins.
Bows point up, sharp breath intake, as fugue’s celestial sounds
Make spirit halves of self soar far above the fleshly part.
With note and measure and bar and movements until the final crescendo.
Before applause a silence
As spirits fold their wings
And settle again to aging nests
And slowly up the stairs,
Merely mortal once again.
James Gould, since retiring after 34 years of patent litigation, has pursued non-legal writing in many genres, including travel, self help, short story and children’s stories. Present projects include a memoir and a screenplay. He also loves travel and City culture.