Carried by Music
A bow troubles the string.
Stories swell in the sounds.
Like shaped clouds, they rise.
Like sunsets, flame.
A phrase of music carries on, a conversation.
Spoken to whom, though?
To stars. To one quiet. To somebody needing to hear.
Words, like sand on a stretching beach wait.
Millions of crystals, dark in their water,
will rise with the tide, blow in the easterlies, glint in the sun.