Kabir says: The only woman awake is the woman
who has heard the flute!
Amy Lowell is a bit harsh on fat, bald guys here (I almost titled this post, "Hey, I like fat, bald guys!" but I thought my husband might object).
To me, though, Lowell's bigger picture is the way we can (must?) separate art and its maker, the interplay between the ordinary and the extraordinary, and the places that art can take you.
Anyway, here's Music by Amy Lowell (1874– 1925):
By Amy Lowell
THE NEIGHBOR sits in his window and plays the flute.
From my bed I can hear him,
And the round notes flutter and tap about the room,
And hit against each other,
Blurring to unexpected chords.
It is very beautiful,
With the little flute-notes all about me,
In the darkness.
In the daytime
The neighbor eats bread and onions with one hand
And copies music with the other.
He is fat and has a bald head,
So I do not look at him,
But run quickly past his window.
There is always the sky to look at,
Or the water in the well!
But when night comes and he plays his flute,
I think of him as a young man,
With gold seals hanging from his watch,
And a blue coat with silver buttons.
As I lie in my bed
The flute-notes push against my ears and lips,
And I go to sleep, dreaming.
Poetry for Children has the Poetry Friday round-up.