Standing there waiting
in dull red worn jeans
pale mustard shabby sweater
flip-flops in February
leaning against the pale wall
clutching her violin case

she stares

The Childrens’ Conductor
comes forward
with “Get your fiddles out.”

The young girl
perhaps eleven
with hair lighter and duller
than her sweater
looks around
no expression on her face

Picking up her instrument
out of its case
she takes her place
joins the others
in this fiddle choir

Front and center
she does not change her gaze
at the adult’s washboard accompaniment
and bass broom with strings
set in washtub for reverbs

Chilly in the shade
under the canopy
of the community center
with children herded to warmest wall
to play in a staggered line
No excitement in their faces

On cue they pick
up their bows
and fiddle.