Spring came later this year
As Winter lingered into April
With snow and frost at dawn.
Snowdrops bloomed alone in March,
Not even greeted by forsithia’s gold.
Then crimson sun thawed the days,
Tempering the dull of night.
Color rushed in as redbud reached
Out from the forest’s edge,
To wake the bare grey twigs.
Awoke, the morning did,
which began to sing with birds,
Sunning themselves on tree crowns,
Which first caught the dawn’s rays.
Color and song, sure signs of Spring,
Were formalized in the Spring Concert
Of the Fresta Valley Christian School.
The concert opened with the choir
In unison. I envisioned the morning
Mist rising from the calm stream
Of Lost River — a band of water
And fog meandering across the valley,
As the cool air settled
Before warming with the rising sun.
”All the Way My Savior Leads Me”
Expanded into crisp harmonies,
Coloring the new leaves,
Painting the forest light green.
“On the Way to Jordan” followed
The rhythm of a river swollen
From a spring storm,
The current coursing around
Boulders and rocks revealed
From generations of rain.
Spring is a time of contrasting sounds,
Tones, and textures, which the choir
Reflected in their third piece,
”Before the Throne of God Above”.
The orchestra began and ended
Their performance with Mozart.
A somber violin sonata initially,
Like winter holding onto the dark
Tone of bark and closed buds.
But, by their final selection,
The first movement of Symphony 29,
The vibrant energy of those
Opening buds and sprouting bulbs
Brought us the joy of renewed life.
Between Winter’s lion and Spring’s lamb,
They graced us with medleys
Of familiar arias from opera,
And melodies from classical
To country tunes, A fresh
Bouquet of cultured and wild
Spring flowers to enjoy
On these lengthening days.
After the intermission bluegrass tunes
Filled the hall with banjo, bass,
Mandolin, guitar, and dobro
Of the Vint Hill Special band.
The hills of Virginia were reunited
With the plow in the field
A rebel soldier dying, and
Even a Tennessee waltz before
Forgiveness of the Gospel.
Crisp voices from mature oaks,
Deft finger work from the strong maples,
The forest, which nurtures the budding
Flower of youth. From the audience,
Watching this Spring Concert,
We hear tapping of feet,
Humming familiar tunes, clapping,
And, the cheers from the girls
In the first row. You need not
Wait for someday to fly away.
At the opening of the evening,
The concert director cued us
That some things cannot be expressed
By words alone. Bloom, Spring bloom.
Prior Spring Concert Reviews: