I was spellbound
by the graceful arc
of his arm
and the precision
of his movement.
Did he train in Vienna?
I longed to hear the woodwinds
awakened by the white glove
pointed
but
reluctantly
I drove on,
otherwise
the cars behind me
would have honked,
and the pointsman
would have directed
his traffic officer precision
and ire
at me.
Diana van den Berg
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/conductor-3/
