wherever I may roam
in my place it’s so quiet
I can hear them performing upstairs
to an empty venue
reciting words or strumming chords
leg wrestling or listening to music
or simply adjusting
sitz bones on wooden chairs
outside their windows
a modest breeze animates life
young leaves sway slowly
keeping time with wooden
and ceramic and metallic chimes
while arms reach out and stretch
to catch a moment in time
one by one they escape
down the patchwork trellis
their voices hushed and excited
pitching a new game where
they scatter off forever and a day
only to reconnect back upstairs
whenever least expected
february two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
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