This Illustrious Cacophony

At breaktime, playful fingers reach for milky keys,
fretting hands imitate eagle’s claws perched on prickly strings,
while a wee index digit is adjusted by big hairy hands
upon the trumpet’s silver valves. Little earnest faces,
hammer, spit, and pluck life into their miniature tools,
which buzz and twang in discordant waves that soar
in joyful array out from Mr Banks’ déjà vu musical emporium.
This illustrious cacophony, chorus of shouts to boot,
harmonises in ideal unison with school’s atonal woops.
A sideways glance, a whistle, an anticipated coda.
She conducts her pinching finale to the instrumental end.

Lewis Connolly