The front row seat

eyes closed under the sun that sweeps

in and out in her finest cloud stole,

the notes play like a symphony

and I am carried away in the peace of the present.

Musical interlude

invisible strings pluck the bars

as the twinkling pitch of sound

drift on the wind to my ears.

I am lost in the hymn of the whisper of breeze

endless in its beauty,

a gift of a piece that marks the moments

as sweet escape into the concerto.