I love the sound of an orchestra warming up.
The cacophony is hardly musical, but if you listen, you can hear what’s coming.
Fragments of melody float from the din, with hints of the beauty that will soon begin.
Isn’t early spring much like pre-concert magic?
Fragments of birdsong float from the treetops; swelling buds and pastel twigs hint of the beauty that is to come.
A concert begins when the conductor mounts the podium, raises a baton and, with a downbeat, indicates that the musicians should begin.