Ode to an Oboe

An oboe, black, gleaming

A dancer, smooth dress adorned with silver lace

Giving voice to the mallard's song

Twirling, casting

A myriad of lights, flickering

Host of metal keys the source

The dancer weaves and bobs--

charming the snake

Distinctive, voice above the orchestra

A mournful song issues forth

leaving

the soul of an aching melody--

Mournful

Through you, the dots have meaning

Lines become Life

Air has shape, purpose

Memory becomes tangible.

Flying fingers conjure colors from your wooden frame.

Red fire pours from angry crescendos

a Sigh of indigo  sorrow strains in vibrato

Slowly, lavendar peeks through, swelling

Majestically gathering at the peak:

Acellerando poca a poco

An oboe, black, gleaming

Instrument of discovery

key to the door of understanding

Music, my soul.