drum circle

last night, the mountain went unmounted we assembled in the hems of her skirts while above, steely heads walled off the quickening sky, piling higher, squeezing tight the vault between jaws of a thundrous vise we thought it unwise to climb her heights that night and as crepusculation commenced bright white broke tight above us seeking shelter the stonemason, the masseuse, the drummer, the engineer, the horsewoman, the mothers, the daughter, the dog, and me: we lit the lanterns and candles and scritched the cats when they arched their backs and wove between our knees, until the trees grew quiet and the rumbling ceased. beneath the clearing eventide, we feasted. strangers, acquaintances, and friends were here to see, and partake and perhaps awaken something with the threat now paled (and the dinner plates cleared away) we circled our seats around a center was found, and silence descended the drummer spoke, and told us each to find our piece of rhythm, to listen, and let it weave itself in begin and slapping, tapping, rapping, clicking, clacking clapping called back to the silenced night sky a boom struck hollow, again, again, and again atop the din. on and on it went, each seeking something in the seething sound surrounding him cacophony then conceded, condensed, and coalesced conjoined, as one voice made of many: warp and weft, naive and deft, high and low, fast and slow, on it pulsed, out it flowed and as before, the thunder faded the hymn was ending we seemed to know though no one spoke it and as the last clap tapped at taut drawn skin, our eyes were raised in unison and silence