Blue Notes


by Kevin T McEneaney


What is love in high C in the morning

when dew nestles on waving leaf and blade

while burning sun has burnt all clouds not nil

and ants scramble through watery meadows?


What is love in B minor in the night

while wind rattles windows and parlor walls

when electricity quits as lines fall

like butterflies in a green hurricane.


What is love in A on Spring afternoon

when a stream trills beneath an arching bridge

while water spiders skim the swift surface

performing an ancient dance before death?


The act of love blooms within minutes

creating a tableaux of memories….


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