An Old English Riddle
with the Answer, Choir

by Maryann Corbett 
 
It stands spring-wound,
			feet shoulder-wide,
Straight of spine 
			as if puppetstring-pulled,
Hangs eyes on a hand
			poised to dive. When it dips,
Breathes deep as gut gets,
			lungfulls of lightness,
Pours soul through secret
			passages of pitch.
Now bursts breath
			out glottis gates
Shifting shape				
			over tongues and teeth,
Sends air exploding
			in rolling rings,
Arcing over aisles,
			setting stones singing,
Hanging humming, 
			humming, humming,
Going ghostly.
			It rests, rests.


© 2006 by Maryann Corbett. All rights reserved.
Maryann Corbett is a writing advisor and index editor with the Minnesota Legislature. She lives, works, and sings in St. Paul.