Orana! Orana!
Orana to Christmas Day!
We are rehearsing for the Christmas concert.
Our CD newly minted is in its spangled green cover.
Baby Jesus not even opening his eyes.
We listen to the playback,
I hear Rowena's syrup thick honey voice,
My own birdlike vibrato,
John's bass vibrates my every molecule down to my toes.
And then we get to 'that' part.
I look across to our conductor.
He is thinking what I am thinking.
Our smiles meet in conspiratorial recognition.
Probably no one else notices,
The one voice that we hear above all others,
In a tree of thirty calling lorikeets.
" Laurie Keeps Calling!"
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