violinist poem #1
my sister was nine when mom took
her young violinist to a fritz kreisler
concert in milwaukee at its close
they went backstage the famous artist
was surrounded he was perhaps sixty
joan wormed her way through adult
legs till she was directly before him
gazing up in adoration he noticed her
laid a hand on her head said a single
word – “child” – so quietly so gently
so reverently that it contained the
promise of all the past all the future
©2014 Jacqueline Jackson
This article appears in Feb 6-12, 2014.
