Barbara Joan Tiger Bass

The Weight of Sound
                after Emily Dickinson

When bassoon reverberates-
Lifting in my air-
I turn and smile at the dusk
As if you might be there.

Your heaviness has faded-
Like a yellowed leaf
As time replaces presence
And tunes its reed to grief.

These days are wracked with silence
Music can't be found-
To fill the barren spaces
Where you laid your timbre down.

And yet my heart is open-
How else could it be?
The tenor of your woodwind-
Soothed me endlessly.

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