My sister finally masters the piece –
Claire de Lune, my favorite, the one
she has practiced over and over again.
I am her devotee, dreamy on the couch.
I fold myself inside her music; cast her
as accompanist to the winter day
singing a solo in gray tones
just outside the window.
Then enter the ballerinas:
snowflakes in lace twirl and dip
and are lifted up
by the diamond-dusted wind.
A sudden crescendo of blackbirds rises:
dark, soaring notes on a white page.
Great clarity. Wonderful to think of snow!
I so appreciate your thoughtful comments!
Kathleen – I really enjoyed the dreamy dance-like quality to this poem. Wonderful end lines!
I used to love to listen to my sister play the piano! It was very intimate!
You have a way with endings… A great catch me voice…
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