Outside, whipping around, grey
Inside, warm, and a focusing power
Is beginning to harness itself.
Scent of apples
Aging fruit in basket
Makes her essence known.
Golden/green gourds
Touch oranges, apples
Innocently, by chance.
Sweet guitar strings
Weave through warm wooded oboe
Melody grows, ummm.
Reading random poems outloud
To music, unrehearsed
As mutsu drops to ground.
Dancing to whatever
Music plays, wafts,
My body, god's instrument.
Music evokes angels
Times of trees past,
When we hid in hollows.
Sky's grey begins to brighten:
My day starts to feel richer,
Green candle burns to samba.
Kathryn Lamberg
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