Drizzle at Dusk
mh   4/28/98


What led you to tears this afternoon?

Was it the piano, 
   that four legged symmetrical beast of burden,
   with its dead elephant tusks ready to roar once more,
   whose touch is hard, yielding, exact, all too familiar,
   your thoughts of it are as tangible as the mind which works it;

Or the player,
   on a safari for the soul - poised to strike the next note,
   live flowing flesh decaying before your eyes into death,
   whose mellifluous touch is hardly known,
   who devours your mind, plays it like any other instrument;

Or maybe the song,
   those immortal emotions dying before your senses
   only to revive themselves with the next refrain,
   graspable only in the mind which devours it,
   while it playfully devours your brain.