of The Inn of Stormy Nights
Happy March everyone! This is one of my favourite months because it is the light at the end of what always feels like a too-long winter. Even here on the island where we are fortunate enough to get next to no snow and temperatures generally stick to 5 degrees Celcius at the lowest. Like last …
I wrote this during my eight hour practice days when I went all berserk toward my ARCT certification, on top of completing a degree in English and Greek and Roman Studies. Yikes. I don’t play near as much as I should these days. Writing has taken the place as my more serious pursuit. Sadly there exists not enough hours in the day for my writing and photography, let alone those plus piano.
Sagged, plush hippopotamus’
and worn eucalyptus trees of knowledge
shadow a flank of black and white keys.
Legato, I touch lightly
the keys too long silent
making grey clouds minuet under fingers
as a savannah reverberates in the parlour.
My right hand, counterpoint
to the thematic antelope
crescendos to a fortissimo,
my left hand, a cheetah sounds the coda
and success is celebrated. It savours a motif
as the rest thunder off, the final cadence rebounds, recalling walls.
After all
it is only furniture.