On Wednesday between the white walls of the orchestra room
we sat enfolded in the that cosmic egg
with our varnished violins and cello,
our trumpets ready to shatter the shell with a single b-flat.
Within those white walls I fell in love with an A clarinet
I cracked the battered case open like a cosmic egg
and found the instrument ancient and in bloom.
There lying among the plush foliage of the weathered case
the metal keys were going green,
going back to decades before,
growing into trees.
I was in love,
my heart cracking wide like a cosmic egg,
opening like a battered case.
I caressed those leaf like keys
and embraced the A clarinet bell and barrel
between the white walls of the orchestra room.
Together we plastered the walls with cosmic egg shell,
loose finger pads exploded
and ricocheted through the air.
We played the hymns of former trees
and metal going green in dark storage.
We played until the cracked wood took root
And the white walls burst into flower.