Tacet

Moments between movements are seldom found
When it seems the band is too blaring
A silence among the barrage of sound
To briefly collect one’s bearings

A pregnant pause when the horns don’t blow
Is the rarest chance to clear the soul
Violinists and cellists and flautists know
How their minds and bows must hold

I played my part for months on end
Not encountering bits of rest
Instrument in hand, I would pretend
Not to notice the obvious pest

Now I admit it is better here
Than in the hull of a wooden casket
What melodies will now appear
With a moment for thoughtful tacet?