THAT MUSICIAN IN THE SUBWAY

I was waiting for a train

in a subway station,

eyes glued to the tunnel 

for a sign of light,

ears on alert for the sound

of shuddering rails.

 

The musician was unexpected,

a trill of sweet notes 

from somewhere behind me,

a voice, at once sorrow,

then ringing with hope,

a song to make lovely 

the underground soot and sweat.

 

I didn’t turn toward him.

I preferred to find his face, his clothes,

in the artful melody,

the palette of strings,

the delicate tenor of his words.  

 

And I could hum along

with his tune

long after we parted ways. 

You can’t always do that

with a man.