My Grandfather-mining it made him blind and
mystery of music almost gave him sight
he would play by candle light and demand
rapture as eloquent as an owl in flight
from himself and the flame survives the wick
lighting up a reverie as he dreams about
his fruit tree and sees the best apples trick
the picker and remain hidden without
adequate desire. Grandfather played right through
the night a tree intoxicated by melody
yields it’s finest fruit-an old man issues
lovely euphonies, a tree mining beauty
from a blind retiree, together they command
and pierce heaven’s ear. A restless owl lands.
Barry Carter is a poet living in Hull, England.
This poem is among the entries for the Society of Classical Poets’ 2012 Poetry Competition.