Tuesday, May 13, 2014 street music at Eastern Market
A couple Saturdays ago on the corner of Winder and Russell, kitty corner from Shed 2, by Rockies, the drummer wasn’t there. Pretty astonishing since he has become a fixture for quite a while. Agile and slender, instantly recognizable, he filled the street with breath-taking cadences. He was fun too, noticing you notice him, without missing a beat. He’ll be back I am sure. Well, pretty sure anyway. Since I don’t even know his name, certainty would be presumptious for a passerby like myself. Street music is like that, it shapes lives, puts a lift in a walker’s step, but you don’t own it.
The other day I came across a poetry website — This week’s poems from “A Year of Being Here”
(http://us5.campaign-archive1.com/?u=457a3577c6b36ca98077cfe6b&id=4c951f5105&e=0b70d2e1dc#mctoc4). You can sign up on a daily or a weekly basis. I decided on weekly. This is my first browsing venture. Wendy Cope rewarded me with her contemplation of a young man on the street playing his flute.
Have a blest day.
p.s. I hope the cherry trees pop their blossom today but even without them, over by Briggs, campus looks fine.
No coats today. Buds bulge on chestnut trees,
and on the doorstep of a big, old house
a young man stands and plays his flute.
I watch the silver notes fly up
and circle in blue sky above the traffic,
travelling where they will.
And suddenly this paving stone
midway between my front door and the bus stop
is a starting point.
From here I can go anywhere I choose.
Wendy Cope in Serious Concerns (1992)