"Musician."
Neptune, an old man, blows his pitch pipe,
and your ear catches every sound.
If sounds were a bag of mixed spices,
you could sort them out with many foods.
If melody were a great thread mixed
in with 1,000 other varied threads,
you could pick it out with your eye.
So when you strike an enormous gong and everyone
gasps at the overwhelming, powerful sound,
you stand listening, rapt.
But not at the grandeur, rather, you
are hearing the overtones, the small pitches of change.
You can analyze the wisdom of the bird,
or the wind blowing through a broken pane of glass.