watch his body—hands, arms, torso, head, face—speak to woodwinds, to brass, to percussion,
to strings. Be one with yourself and with all, his flesh and bones say. Be
guider of steps, caresser of ears, filler of hearts. And they are. And he
the sun with blooms,
with his music, my lover
photo by Jamille Queiroz, on Unsplash
- there are so many things to dislike (okay, to loathe) about the pandemic imposed isolation, but watching my Piano Man teaching from home is not one of them.
for Poets and Storytellers United (Writers’ Pantry #54: New Dawn).