Thursday poem

Piano Interlude

Thursday afternoon
births static tension
turning to thunder,
louder, harder when
five fingers know,
then ten, what action
the progression intends.

Lean in to play staccato,
hunch, hover low,
move slow, recreate,
instigate a melody,
bind the tune, there
in the crook of your arm,
let the cadence wind out
as sound fades into rumble
from a far off place.

Hold the pedal down,
stay still hands on ivory,
listen, wait, listen.