Play me a song

On your shy violin

Tuck her in gently

Under your chin

Tickle her softly

With the bows string

Let me hear her laugh

As you help her to sing

Lend her a voice

With your firm fingertips

Let your bow kiss

Her beautiful lips

Oh! The songs she will sing

And the tunes she will spin

Peace on Earth

            Hakizimana took a deep breath and tugged on the bell rope. The swinging great bronze bell nearly pulled him off the ground. Bong…bong…He released the rope, letting the tolling bell slow to a gentle whisper. As he stared at the floor, he drifted back into memories. Screams and the clash of machetes echoed in Hakizimana’s mind.

“Peace?” he buried his head in his hands. “No, Lord, I do not have peace. How can I when the floor is stained with the blood of my brothers in you?”

Look at the faces of the lonely cliffs
staring out at the sea
they raise their eyes at night
to glimpse the stars

Look at the faces of crumbling boulders
that say, come, and rest on me
they burrow down in moss
and muddy ground

Look at the faces of earnest, brave pebbles
laughing in rushing cold creek
they dance and spin in light
and water smooth

Look at the faces of silvery-cool rocks
resting in the shade of a tree
they look out at the green
and sigh so sweet

Note: I play a keyboard and a pennywhistle, and the latter is what is meant by "six small holes".

Music
Fingers dancing
Slowly or quickly over
Black and white keys
Or six small holes
Notes going back and forth
Telling each other stories
Blending together to make a
Melody of a tale
Sometimes you sing
Adding another dimension
Making your own music
Straight from yourself
A friend listens
Or no one at all
Perhaps your guardian angel hears
And God as well
He created music, after all

Cricket, cricket, singing high,
watching as the clouds roll by,
leaping under dark'ning sky,
chirping at the fireside

Cricket, cricket, singing slow,
watching as the sun sinks low,
basking in the red-orange glow,
listening as the breezes blow

Cricket, cricket, singing fast,
singing as the world goes past,
singing in the shadows cast,
sing to make the evening last

Sitting in the sanctuary,
I close my eyes;
Anticipating the rush of song,
that is sure to come.
Right on cue,
The choir starts singing.
My skin tingles as a soprano
soars up to an exceptionally high note,
And as a bass,
goes so low;
The room seems to vibrate.
Estatic, I lean back futher, half asleep.
I am suddenly jolted from my reverie by the
sound of thuderous applause.
The concert is over.
I struggle to my feet clumsily,
Joining into the clapping.