Singing Practice Poem by Tea Kawana

He came to watch us practise;
To spot the specks of dust,
To wipe them clean.
With piercing eyes, quite
He looked at us,
Still marking.

And when he spoke.
His words bellowed
From the heart.
I glanced at him
From time to time;
Momentarily taking in his words
And staring at him.

He spoke with passion,
So much passion.

The tone in each note
he carried played what
they had to play:
solemnity, care, love, empathy
I know he twisted nerves
and shook hearts.

He fixed us up with his words.