So I unexpectedly had some free time at home between interpreting jobs today, so I decided to head to the basement and practice playing my violin for a bit. I'm terrible at practicing daily(I never do), but I am still learning. I am working on a portion of Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto at the moment, not because I'm good enough to play his Concerto well, but because I'm able to practice a couple different techniques within the piece. Anyway, I had been practicing for a bit, cringing every time I played a note slightly flat or sharp & when I can't get the trills to sound fluid, etc. I paused a moment and suddenly I had the begginings of a poem in my head. I then stopped practicing, sat down to mull it over, and ended up with this....

Trills & staccato,

Vibrato & slurs..

Takes patience to learn them,

And mere moments to Err.

From the nut to the tip,

Then back again I bow.

Speeding only when needed,

And slowly, I grow.

Cringing when it squeaks,

Elated when done right.

Those few moments of success,

Provide motivation on this plight.

Impatient with slow progress,

And forgetting from where I've come;

Looking back at where I started,

And remembering the fun.

Turning on some Sarasate,

Schubert, or Bach.

I sit back and revel,

In the great masters' work.

The Lord so blessed their composition!

Such Magnificient scores!

With joy and elation,

My soul quickly soars!

I return from the heavens,

And with resolve to stay;

I take up my violin,

And continue to play.

#provision