Denouement – Final Curtain
Summer’s curtain is drawing down
After what seems to me a short but successful run.
The critics have not been kind,
Too hot. Too cool. Too wet. Too dry.
Fingers point in many directions.
But let the audience be the judge.
Judgements are made not from what we are told,
But how the play unfolds
For those in the paying seats
And that, in turn, depends on where you’re seated
And expectations brought through the door.
Critics be damned.
The location, front centre, first row balcony,
Has been fine, just fine.
Sunrise with coffee near at hand
Invokes memories of summers past
And other, happier times.
That hushed moment before day’s industry
Begins to intrude on the mood,
Mad dogs and Englishmen
The only ones abroad.
You can almost taste the silence.
The curtains parting in the East
With teasing, tantalizing ease,
Birds sounding choruses from treetops
Declaring their temporary sovereignty
With hints of the drama or comedy to come.
Til the dawn’s full face rises on the land,
The footlights dim, the spots brought to full focus.
The chorus stands aside till called again
To augment the plot
Or bring down the final curtain.
A time ripe for rambling dreams to focus
On the thought that stirred you from your bed,
That drew you to this grand theatre,
To expand the possibilities of theme and plot.
The scene is set, the atmosphere revealed.
Now the characters step forth.
Since all of this is my own creation
How could I not be pleased?
A few more acts to follow,
A brief entr’acte for unruly weather
Or my desire to stay abed,
But summer’s brief fifteen minutes is almost done.
There is the certainty of a revival next season
Despite the critic’s yeas or nays,
Although my presence or absence in the audience
Is not assured, nor at times, desired.
I have paid for my ticket.
I am here now, and if the fates allow,