The Nature of a Bass
by Brittney Gish

A maple and spruce tree stand side by side
Their branches touch, stretching across the stream on which they reside
The spruce on the left, the maple on the right
Their leaves and needles shimmer with dew in the early morning light

And if you look close you may glimpse the sight
Of the ghosts of their spirits dancing on still water by twilight

It’s been a century or so and still they abide
Though most of the forest around them has died

Their spirits commune in the darkness of night
Yet they cannot be one, try as they might
Leaning in close with branches wrapped tight
Just holding hands, hearts filled with delight

Into the woods one day came a change
There were people about who looked quite strange
A man with a saw, a man in a suit
And a man with a mouth that did not have a mute

They took many measures from the crown to the root
But the trees could not figure out what they were trying to compute

When the man with the saw came into range
The trees shook with fear for he looked quite deranged
He climbed up the trees standing so cute
And tore apart their branches without further dispute

The saw buzzed, bit and bore trying to give them the boot
With a groan they toppled and the man gave a woo-hoot

That they loved one another meant very little
They were condemned to a life apart, to go dry and brittle
Each were rolled away to a different location
Where they sat for several decades without motivation

Till the man in the suit disclosed his vocationA luthier, one who carves wood with great sophistication

From the maple he took much wood from the middle
Into strips, chunks, and plates the wood he did whittle

With joy, love and much animation
He carefully refines and bonds his creation
“At last he is finished” was his exclamation,
“But alas he needs a top to create some vibration”

The maple was to be part of a string bass you see
This is the highest being anyone could hope to be
In case you didn’t know, it resembles a six-foot cello
But the sound is much deeper, richer, and more mellow

Maple makes up the back, neck and ribs of this fellow
But another wood the front, something soft, so vibes pass through like jello

Still in her dungeon the spruce pines quietly
Till a man came to examine her on bended knee

He cut from her middle at her hearts hollow
In misery she sighs, vowing her heart she would follow
As the luthier lovingly shapes her, in despair she does wallow
For now her love will not know her so carved with wood so sallow

He added to her ebony purfling as a beautiful but practical garnish
Planing her smooth he covered her in radiant red-brown varnish

He carried her into a brightly lit room
Which she could only presume to be her tomb
She peered around sadly, then snapped from her gloom
For there in the distance her lover did loom

The luthier mumbled “selecting wood this way is quite rare-ish
This instrument will be one someone will cherish”
He laid them together and around them did zoom
Till they were fitted together like cloth on a loom

One day they’d be plucked by a finger’s ka-boom
And played with the bow’s sawing vroom, vroom

This in fact is nature itself you see
It’s the voice of the heart of you and of me
The wild and rough refined for the halls
Our love reverberating off of all of the walls

The pitch out our song rises and falls
There in a moment our voice does call

Will it be you who answers our plea?
Or will you ignore us like most of humanity
If just for a moment your heart did stall
Find that place in your being and close to it crawl

Enter it, stay in it, and break down its wall
Live with true nature once and for all

Copyright (Brittney Gish), 2009

Brittney lives in Iowa, USA.

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