Play

Hundreds of raindrops have plastered themselves

against the domed skylight above.

Like some determined security guard, it’s redirected

their downward spiral away from the opening act, the piano

in the main study. Something natural

& instinctive draws water toward wood, thunderheads

& overcast skies begin again the

appreciation of time remaining in spring seepage.

Doing so, might they overlook all

previous events, soil-bound drop and patter,

relentless shifting, momentary rest--

siblings, parents stolen by the greedy

 sun? I’m sorry, this concert’s reserved

for a designated audience,

lone maple twig, a leaf on each arm.

How each longs to sway to the notes;

how pleased they seem with the single spot-

light, silent crowd, the shiver of anticipation

in darkrooms. But an unwanted

fan splashes my ear; he whispers: Just play.