The drummer
his race aglow
we hear him call
from the back row.
His ringers are magnificent
only surpassed
by his playing.
His hands are super large too
they penetrate
the skin of the drum
with a wildly countried rhythm.
He plays past the stars
the drummer
closes his eyes against the withheld part
while his hands pound the beat
and spirits hear it
even in the back row
where it’s dark
and sounds become a monotone.
Somehow the hearts keep time
spirits move
great balls of sound
on the plumbline
of the drummer’s tune
setting the pace
for other parts
when they reckon.
His rock is in the back row
he hears the echo’s roar
of angels dancing
on top or the plumbline
connection. _
Cymbals clash
the drummer has decided to call.

“PLUMBLINE” by: Patt ©2015

Posted in Select "Say" Book

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