Crystal decanter, wine in a glass.
Tabletop woodwinds court candlestick brass.
Fine sterling service, stems in a vase.
High-tone enamel meets low double bass.
Pale yellow roses, peaches, and grapes.
Clarinet colors tint saxophone shapes.
Citrus in concert, lemon, and lime.
Echoes of summer in three-quarter time.
There are brazen implications
in these muted, pulsing horns.
The strings are thick and creamy.
The bass line’s strewn with thorns.
Nail-tap percussion, tremolo drill.
Twelve o’clock whistle sounds cranky and shrill.
Shipping yard sunlight, loading dock shade.
Forklift holds pallets in mid-serenade.
Mustard-stained napkin, Styrofoam cup.
Strains of a power saw being tuned up,
Baritone belt sander wailing away.
White glove allegro turned grease monkey gray.
Without darkness, there could be no light.
The sun would rise unnoticed.
Without silence, there could be no song,
from either bird or locust.
Without winter, there could be no spring.
No flowers for your lover.
Without music, there could be no art.
They flatter one another.