There is a police alert at the Capitol.

Glorious sunlight streams through the sliding glass panels by the deck, its memory reflected behind the tiled foyer by the equally bright glass doorway framing the front yard. She sits, reading.

From the satellite radio across the room, the Beethoven piano concerto No.5 announces its presence wth an emphatic flourish. Performed by a soloist who could just as easily, if implausibly, be her, she finds marvelous the notion that, sitting quietly here in this nook with an engrossing read is very possibly an act which links the two of them, anonymous recorded soloist and virtual unknown, in satisfying solace.

How far removed, a moment like this, from the so-familiar anticipation, dread, intense preoccupation, grasping, fabric-binding, flesh-moistening, eyes boring inward, lips pursing and flexing, shoulders set, fingers absently poised……

What might the anonymous radio soloist be doing this fine day, his or her sacrificial offering wafting into this welcoming room? Perhaps curling up in an equally sunny corner with an equally private, really good book?

Or, would the soloist be listening to this performance?

She closes her book momentarily, laying her hands across the old binding, feeling its ancient weave. Her bliss is brought home by Beethoven’s masterpiece. She closes her eyes.

Books, or merely the reading of them, babysit the body while the mind takes holiday. Music nourishes. Thoughts and feelings converge. The police have just caught the intruder, heading for the beltway between DC and Maryland; the media will spend the rest of the late afternoon and into the evening speculating.

The pianist turns at that very moment from a book by the predictable pivot of an embellishment which, for certain reason, had come off just short of expectation. Tempted to contemplate the novelist’s imagery, the pianist is caught instead by a stone in the road.

Perhaps there will be succour provided by an exquisite rendering of the andante.





© Ruth Ann Scanzillo

2012; modified 1/25/15 all rights reserved. Thank you.



2 thoughts on “Equanimity.

  1. ” Glorious sunlight streams…” is a glorious beginning to this interestingly erotic piece. I, too, believe we are all” link[ed]” in “silent solace” as we feast upon the imagination!

    Liked by 1 person

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