The Man Who Filled A Valley With Music Poem by Bill Grace

Over the bed of the man who filled the valley with music
hung the pewter corpse mounted on brown wood
'INRI' in scroll over the top of His head
he certainly looked dead.

Across the public highway our neighbor the front steps of his walk
where Eleanor Roosevelt and entourage would first stop
when she would come to briefly visit.

To the front of the house of the man who would fill a valley with music
a far rolling eastward hill with a fox den of young welps
enjoyed through telescope. Unposted land
the fox destiny
a future hunter's
victims.

Up the highway from the neighbor of the man
who would fill the valley with music
the chapel
set in expansive lawns and flower beds,
the man would gather empty beer cans on his way to Mass
tidying this public's indifference.

How do you fill a valley with music without convening a rock concert?
in those post World War II days scrap was cheap
he befriended the State's war surplus barons
he befriended the scrap merchant
when metal was low he melted ingots
when scrap was high he sold
the money bought a carillon
the carillon made music
music that filled a valley
the man who filled the valley with music
my Dad - 'Pop.'




To the front of the house of the man who would fill a valley with music