His unhurried attention never wavered
as he moved to an inaudible rhythm.
Each strand had its moment.
Each side smoothed to harmony.
Each part in the groove.
And the beard,
usually unruly and unrepentant,
yielded to his direction.
Each solo seamlessly faded in and out,
like smooth jazz,
instead of the usual
fast, friendly, upbeat buzz.
Time,
too often hurried and hasty,
floated leisurely to the horizon,
carried on an ocean of sound.
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Trust you to find the poetry in a simple haircut.