Maestro

Sitting down at
my keyboard
I warm up
dabbling with
this note, that key

limbering fingers;
rusty digits
stumbling, stubborn
not yet ready
to perform

a few tentative bars
then a rhythm emerges
a strong, steady beat begins
to build, a ready tempo – faster,
faster, faster…more rhythmic, driving…
more soulfully; musical beat driving, driving

fingers are now flying, the muse is dancing
the music for now only for me; words take shape,
poetic paragraphs form, and I am Horowitz playing
Tolstoy – no! Cliburnesque Mark Twain as I coolly stroke
the keys, inprovise the next notes, compose the
next refrain of my triumphal symphony,

clicking away at the next great American

aria novel…poem…thingy

with words

when I can think of
good
ones

or I  just run out

of gas.

or ideas.

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