to make a sound.
Cover the holes
to make it smooth and sweet
and round.

Tap foot,
keep time,
hold heart and mind
more deep
than worded reason
or its clever rhyme.

Without wry shapes
of face or mouth,
your fingers, breath,
and body held within
the shifting now
through you,
the Universe to sing. . .

And maybe yet,
you’ll give and get
all that you came here for,
in union grand and circular. . .

And not only
do things that didn’t,
start to click,
what was hid or puzzling
now, like resounding peeling bells
above the fuzzy, cloudy din,
rises and unveils itself
in one melodious ring.

This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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