The Green Violinist

 

Tap-dances on our roofs

sounding unlike rain

and minds his own in his variegated

purple umbrella coat,

and his un-matching shoes.

 

He is one of the dispossessed

but as we go about our daily

tasks, flying and sweeping,

fetching the lambs in,

we are not mindful of that.

 

We don’t part with loose change today

either. Anyone can fiddle.

It takes skill, however to balance

a ladder in bare branches;

to measure the width of a breeze.