Pipe and String
Push the heavy door, enter into warmth,
Pass amongst the waiting folk seated in their pews,
See beyond a Gothic arch an altar decked in green,
Pipes of the organ painted, rising from the choir.
Enter, a lady, with her violin,
Her first tones singing, soaring, celebrating,
Flutes, diapasons, reeds of the organ
Provide the tapestry of sound now breaking.
Bow on string, breathing pipes together,
Molto cantabile, speaking of praise,
Love, benediction, memories evoking,
Two instruments blending like honey and wine.
Like spices and citrus, mixture of scents,
Notes rise and take their flight from the chancel
Into the nave, the aisles, the high roof,
For listeners seated in age-old pews.
After the final flights of sound,
We rise and leave, edified, assured,
Sweetened by well-loved airs recalled,
Colour of tone, brightness and depth,
By dialogue, harmony,
…..and blessed.