Morning light is worming through, and someone is in the clearing aglow, Astride a fallen giant, and is drawing light through, as her horsehair bow

Teases metal wires racked on the slender frame of wood, on which follow Last night’s dreams, tapped out and thrummed by her chilled fingers, slow

And hesitant, looking up towards the enclosing shell of willows that allow Only a limited perspective of the sun that has risen in either red or yellow

Familiar notes first, perhaps she is just practicing the scales, fill the hollow, And memory of when her body was only music ripples like a risen minnow

Everything is listening here, few doves, a red headed woodpecker, a swallow With its arced wing, so you too stop and listen to this beauty in making billow

Like the wind you sometimes hear, ear to the ground, as if it is from the burrow From which Eurydice is surfacing, winched up by a single Orphic violin or cello.

A part of the weekly word-scale exercises.