winds smooth
over wood, glossy
surfaces, lift…
Instruments
gallop, gallop
all the way…
warm brass breath
rising on summer evening…
trombones
jab orange javelins
into the air…
the snare drum throbs,
one foot presses the gas pedal,
one foot pumps the pedal
to the timpani…
ive always felt a bit bad
for old guitars sitting around
because you get so afraid of breaking them…
Even for those who,
Haven’t a clue how to play…
They come in all shapes,
All sizes, skills, and instruments…
The flutes resonate
with my eyelashes
The trombones resonate
in my chest cavity
Monkeys.
More monkeys.
Daily Poets 