Would there were a willowing woodwind blowing happy
thoughts, wooing grimace to grin, coaxing, wheedling the
distraught. Winding its way down the street, marching,
strutting to a lively beat, with heads chiming out of windows
forgetting the blues within, modulating to the tunes
carried on the wind. Just listen and stress begins
to flee; thoughts glisten bowing to this stick man band of
glee. Musical notes topple woes like dominoes, tickling
the ivories of your fancy and tuning your virtuoso. Melodies
putting the mind at ease, symphonies of bodily harmony.
Oh, could there Be, to find the key to pitch and scale far
from my Elegy to trade minor for major, shift to a smiling,
singing choirboy following my maestro woodwind of joy.
Augustus / Folsom, LA / 2016