The Fugue of the Storm

At first, the silence held sway.
A hushed, breath-filled silence
That was like the moment 'twixt
The audience's final hush, and
The first note.
And then it came; the crack of thunder,
Growing outwards from a secret, hidden place
Roiling, swelling, spreading out in
Ever-increasing tendrils of sound,
Until finally the sound shot out and grasped
And shook the very foundations of the heavens.

Then came the violins.
From the darkened sky came a sprinkling
Of liquid diamond drops of rain
Falling downward.
It soon grew louder, being joined by the
Viola, cello, bass, mandolin, harp and
The sweet stringed voice of the lute.
A serenading rhapsody of quicksilver timbre,
That swirls and eddies, matching the rain.
Capriccio, oratorio, chaconne, nocturne,
Fantasia, extravaganza, partita, sonata.

A single blinding note.
Then shapely from nowhere sprang a sudden
Counterpoint of wind
Echoing from some lost memory the high-handed
Arrogance of the chimes, the horns and clarinet
In joined and yet distinct harmony
Dancing in a breath-taking melding of melodics,
Light-toed silveriness and roaring golden darkness
Flying through the dark, soft ballroom
Interspersed by quick flashes of light,
Illuminating the couple's minuet.

And then, ritardando.
The dancers turn to each other and bow.
In decrescendo, they whirl away from the ballroom
Each to return to the place whence their
Arriving and joining in the dance.
The rain subsides to a whimsy of flutes,
The wind to a sigh of a piccolo.
The thunder hid itself again in the kettledrum
And the cloud-strung heaven once more
Was quiet, distant and composed.
At last, the silence held sway.