Plucker of Strings (9/10/98) rev 4/10/2009

He played his harp this plucker of strings
On a busy street near the beach
From whence did he come this plucker of strings
This virtuous player, who plays on the street?

Years of training went into this thing
Those fly away fingers on dancing hands
Thrumming, and trilling the instrument sings
On a busy street near the beach

Angels voices, choirs we’re told
Majestic music from instrument old
You might even ask, did he come this far
Just to play his harp on the street?

People pass by with heads in the air
The music of harps is not their care
Yet music wafts and spirals unchained
From this plucker of strings on the street

Some stop and listen, and some even hear
And some actually tarry for tune
A drop in the bucket, a dollar or two
Virtuous talent so sparsely remuned

Then out on the sidewalk, an angel appears,
A child, so young ... maybe two
He cranes his neck to the towering harp
And watches wide-eyed at what fingers can do

He’s rapt by the digits that dance so free,
Plucking the strings on the street
As the giant musician with his cheek on the harp
Thrums out his music with glee

He looks down at this tyke with saucer-wide eyes
A nascent critic of diminutive size
As his fingers dance and joyously prance
Little feet shuffle in awkward dance

With his face aglow and his cherub’s touch
The little child senses vibrations leap
Then looks at his hand as if it is he
Who is plucking the strings on the street

What will become of this awestruck elf
Who discovered the harp on the street
Expertly played by a blue-eyed giant
Who smiled from that towering peak

Will he pluck such strings with once tiny hands
Will his music waft and spiral and soar
Will people listen and call for more
Will roses be thrown at his feet

Or will he be playing for passersby,
A plucker of strings on the street?