Paderewski and January, 2021

the river is just beyond

I did not intend to click that icon
strange word for it
the effing icon has an incomplete title
one can’t tell what it is
one doesn’t click to bring the song to life
one clicks because one doesn’t know
what the hell is there
the laptop full and stodgy,
one must be diligent
with
all
those
icons.
icons?

The song comes
unbidden
clicked into existence
I will end it
continue the day’s work
walk the dog
fetch a sweater
since the radiator has gone down
but again I am caught
in these sounds.

The same August window
and grandparent table
only it is sere now
out there
through the wisp of curtain.
a plume of steam rises from a chimney
down below
on 95th
whiter than the gray river beyond
no ice floes no sun.

My eyes
fasten on that flowing cloud
breath held,
fingers clasped
cool as the winter.
the melody takes a grip
gently triste
deeply sorrowful.
I give in.

The middle section
interrupts
insisting and urgent
not sure one can sustain this…
turn away
another click?

Time and journey
melody
strange grasping
wondering at this experience of listening,
aware of endings and wanting,
breath and one’s life.
how can this
meandering seduction
simple, actually,
be so compelling?

Again the notion of
sharing the song.
this being why we sit together
in concert halls
(or did)
we partake
of orchestra,
singer,
pianist,
we are together
with this
wrenching
mystery of music.

Maybe that hunger
for another
to share this melody
is the isolation
speaking.
or perhaps a certainty,
the heartrending beauty.