There’s music in us all.
The way a song lightens
the step of hiking boots.
Lyrical as an adventure,
its new sights and sounds
beyond our narrow path.
We waved goodbye to our
mamá and papá, setting off
into golden dust of rising sun.
Song took them into blue
drifts of clouds. Beyond us,
where music strums morning
and breezes tease our ears
with ancient tales retold.
We sway. Clap. A tapping foot
knows freedom. A campfire’s
flare orchestrates its own beat.
And the hen joins in, plucking
percussion, as if the grass is her
guitar, and then up pips the old
kettle – it whistles its harmony
to the tunes we know from yore.
And we will drink wine, sweet as
summer’s whisper, and eat buttery
pasta, rolled and fingered into
bows and strings and accordions.
And the air hums with our music.
Written and submitted for publication to Visual Verse Anthology Vol 8, Chapter 9. ©Misky 2021 Image by Maria Victoria Rodriguez