Telrao

Rhythm

I finish the piece again,
But it feels so off, so wrong.
I frown at those little dots
Those vibrations made visible
Those notes that I have played in concert,
Over and over again,
That have never quite fit together.

I hold up my flute again
Rest it against my chin, blow,
My brow furrowed in focus.
My fingers dance along the keys
Matching those little dots, note for note.
As the sound all floods through me,
In that moment, the rhythm clicks.

The notes meld, somehow combine
The melody hums within,
And I play those notes, those dots
Swaying in time to the rhythm,
Blissfully and completely absorbed
In the soft sound of the flute
And that wonderful, thrumming rhythm.

The song reaches crescendo,
And my heart lifts and flutters,
Climbing higher with the notes.
Accent, staccato, tenuto
Each perfectly played, each one in time,
Each one followed by the next,
‘Til finally, the song ends and fades.

Eyes closed, I stand in that time
Of pure, divine perfection.
A smile curls across my lips
And I lower my precious flute.
That last note lingers, perfect and whole.
I open my eyes and grin,
Raise my flute once more, and start again.