The Curtain Closes

An opera season has ended. I remember fondly the gala opening where all were decked in swanky formal evening wear sipping champagne and raising their flutes to a successful season. Bright, fragrant summer flowers decorated tables and food was plentiful. Everyone reveled in the excitement and joy of the music yet to be heard. Toasts abounded. All sang in harmonic chorus. The season began and all watched as act after act of passion, desire, affection, joy, misery, suffering and wrath were displayed behind the proscenium for all to view. Voices rose above the sweeping mello cellos and soulful clarinets. The intensity of tempos urged more from each singer, rising to a crescendoing climax that verged on the edge of each performer’s ability, testing their range, their sostenuto, and their stamina. Finally, scene after scene, Act after act, Performance after performance, The drama has played out, And the orchestra dies with a sad cadence in d minor. The curtain closes The opera is finished.