for Brynn and John
The Maestros know every note.
They can play it fast or slow.
They can start short with staccato bursts that shred the air
and bounce around like two-year-olds
barely landing on one note long enough,
like a new toy, to make the lights go.
They can play it high or low.
Can make you reel fast like a teenage girl with a hot wink,
make you think you missed something
so your brain must go back to catch what was lost
while still absorbing the next wave heading into shore.
But more. The Maestros have rode each scale.
They’ve seen the top of Kilimanjaro covered in snow
felt the sand on the ocean’s floor and rode
like bubbles back to the surface gasping for air
but through it all have proven unstoppable. And so.
You can not catch them.
Not in a race or sham or lie. The fine muscles of their fingers
and throat in perfect time, entirely aware of the valves
and traps they tug on, the heartstrings
playing the audience. No need to say how you feel
when the last note blows.
The Maestros know.