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.
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.