Her body sways with the quiet motion
Of a wave across it's sand
All emotion
Distilled through her flowing hands.
Her brushlike fingers
Stroke with knowing,
A touch, well tested
In practised years,
Scales with such ease
Without fear,
At times just a glance
Evokes the right response
Striking the cord
That glazes
A smile across her focused lips,
As shoulders conducting
Her sweep of limb
Across her canvas
Of black and white,
With a skim-
Fingers flit upwards
To a tinkle
Of airiness,
Sending signals
That makes her soul tingle
Then a pause....
Moted air steeped
In expectant grace notes,
With a flick of wrist
She whips the air,
Kneading hands
Sculpting new dynamics,
The vibrations of these
Wonderful harmonics
Leave her raw.
And not for the first time
I am in awe
At the five lines
That map
The world of sound.
Framed in fives
A simple stave,
On a sea of dots,
Clefs and bars
She crests the waves