KEITH Murray's description of the silent operatic scene invites us to fill in the background story of the hurler of the Puccini record from the clifftop.

But it's not a sad but a defiant moment.

MADAME BUTTERFLY

He knew he was dying,

ninety-two years,

wars and lovers,

seascapes, mountain journeys,

bright moons, bird filled skies,

all coming back to him today,

standing on a cliff edge

his copy of Madame Butterfly

under his arm,

grooves naked to the wind

as if the wind would play

Puccini in the grand outdoors,

he waited, and he heard something

through the invisible

through the time disappearing,

sent the disc flying into the sea,

flapping wings,

the crashing waves

bringing him home,

the beautiful song

fresh in his memory

playing out.