note by note

Bach plays in the background
as I compose this verse.
Vor deinen Thron tret’ ich hiermit 
prepares my heart for what may come
heals from what has already been

note by note
yielding
words upon words

the organist channels today
a brilliance
penned long ago

now it’s Gigout
Grand Chœur Dialogué
brilliance of another kind
coming to life on the
King of Instruments

that’s what it’s called, you know.
not just by me.

The huge bellows pump
plain old air
into
meticulously machined and malleated
pipes of
wood
zinc
copper
brass
tin.

transformation
thaumaturgic

complex chromaticity compels me
– nothing primary here –
mauve ingests magenta
maroon begets marigold

no two organs the same
just like fingerprints
a child can tell the difference
an observant one, at any rate

that’s not even our organ
says my boy.
true enough.
I must be doing something right.

patterns for parenting
oft relying gratuitously and needfully
on remembrances grizzled and nascent

whatever works.

Finally
Finale

Widor Toccata
wickedly technical
wondrously triumphant

Wise Teacher,
more notes please.

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