Conductor

He raises his hands,

And as our cue,

We begin our dance -

Instruments,

Communicating,

It's like we can talk to each other

Through the song.

He claps his hands twice -

A sound we're all trained to know

Means stop, we have something to work through

And so the music stops,

And he starts us again

And it always sounds better.

He cues us,

He swings his baton through the air,

Gesturing more here, 

Quiet,

NOW you go,

A little more volume,

Pick up the pace, guys.

When the song ends

On a fermata

He holds his hands in front of him,

Facing us,

Always facing us,

Cutting off the final reverberating note

With a quick flick of his wrist

Like tying it up

Ending it crisply -

What would we do

Without him?

The sharp inhale as he swings us into the music,

The way he waves his arms in front of him at us

When we won't stop playing,

As if he is fighting an ocean,

Waves of sound crashing down on him,

Waving it away,

Fighting the power -

And I am thinking

It takes a really cool person

To be able to control that

Every day.