There were many cymbalists, but no one dared to play the instrument in Melvin's presence. His playing was visual; it brought flowers to viewers’ minds, filling the air with sounds of falling leaves, lawns, lakes, forests, mountains, and all the beauty that nature could offer. It made his listeners feel synaesthetic. After all, Respighi wrote music to three paintings by Sandro Boticelli, they used to say. Melvin never left his house for longer than a day.  When asked about his sources of inspiration, he used to answer, “I was listening to the grass growing in my backyard.”

 

 

 

 

 

Erin McKee

THE THUNDERSTORM
LOUD CRASHES OF THUNDER FILL THROUGH THE AIR
TUMBLING AND RUMBLING WITH OUT A CARE
EVERY THUD CRASHES WITH ALL ITS MIGHT
PEOPLE HUDDLED UP IN THEIR HOUSES ALL A FRIGHT

Don't worry people the storm will pass
tiny raindrops fall
against the glass
all is quiet
once * *
again *
*
*