Old Man And His Violin Poem by Jim Yerman

I've often heard him playing his violin…his music has a way
of finding its way into my heart…be it night or be it day.

He plays outside while looking up…always in the same place
underneath the power lines with a smile on his face.

He has no music in front of him…it seems to flow from somewhere within
but there he sits day in…night out…this old man and his violin…

I asked him once how he does it…how does he find a way
to play a different song each evening…a new song every day.

He pointed up to the power lines…then played some of the most beautiful music I'd ever heard…
"It's really very simple." he said…"Each day I play the birds."

The power lines are my musical staff…when the birds land there each day
I don't have to think about it…all I have to do is play.

"But what about at night? " I asked…"You play different music…
different tunes with different bars."
The old man smiled
"When the birds go to sleep in the evening, " he said…
"that is when I play the stars."