Girl at the Piano

In the shifting,
shuttered light
of a dancing,
dappled shade,
each afternoon
I’d watch her
from my window –
the girl across the street
who played piano.

Muslin drapes
shimmied
with the breeze;
her silhouette
as if glimpsed
through a peignoir
of gathering
silver mist.

Music of the spheres –
sotto voce
like the stutter
of a moth’s wings...
arpeggios
of waves
breaking on the shore,
in her touch...
in her rise and fall;

a hint
of a song
settling soft
upon my shoulders
like a whisper
of a satin,
Paisley shawl.