Elan Mudrow
Smidgens
Maybe—That—Would Awaken—Them
Song lingers, body shaped by its charms.
The instrument, tarnished and scratched, still distinct…
Soft metal of depth, built from devotion, a loneliness all know, few embrace.
Upon first touch, cold as granite, then melody’s warmth wraps…the air.
Strange kind of ether, a wonder we breathe, sound is the current of the core.
Bending a phrase, the trailing dash of a note, dangling off into chant…
The incantation.
Magic is craft mixed with gift, singed by song, burnt into listening, words that hit inside.
First notes feel the delicacy of fingers, the embouchure fixed
Mouth free into verse.
Recite aloud.
(Emily Dickinson Series #2)
10 Comments on “Maybe—That—Would Awaken—Them”
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Elan Mudrow 
Love!!!!
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Incredible.
A verbal painting of rhetorical effects.
Magniloquent.
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You have sung your song so well that I feel the echoes.
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I know a father and son team of jazz trumpet players who are true musicians. They will love this post.
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Beautiful–verse and picture.
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You penned your words like an instrument of pleasure.
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Groovy. 😎😎😎
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A mouth free into verse … recite aloud. How moving – even better inspiring!
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Love your words.
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