At the Piano

It might have me reveling in
Sunday morning and the gift of
a home among mature trees;
together we are an orchestra.

We hold this pattern, each day
returning to familiar notes much
alike, contemplating the scale of
an experience again and again.

Then, changing rhythm signals
life moving into its new phase.
Sometimes this is a yearning,
sometimes resolution. Both.

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Regarding Music

I play music and it tells me many things:
if I am only skimming surfaces and
it is time to turn in for the night, and
if I’d like you to climb into the night with me

If you listen, it might say
let’s set fire to everything
and begin again on another coast.

Certainly you have thought this before.

At the piano I let my hands
do what they will; inevitably
the music scoops up who I am,
bares a soul that rarely breathes,
unearths what I did not know was inside.
At times I am not sure who is holding who.

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