Holding Written Music

Most nights I 

Would be counting stars

Tonight I am counting lines and

Page numbers

Sheaves of notation

Stapled on the top

Left corner

Like stars

I am captivated by the dots

And swirls and lettering

Hastily scribbled markings

Busying up the margins

Everything as it should be

Mostly

Always room to improve

Always room to grow and shift

Erase the scribbles

Add new notes to the edges

In middle

On the front

A musical to-do list

Right there in your hands

To remember

To modify

To learn

And to make things

Beautiful

Until the corners run

Ragged and tear

Lose a page here

A page there

And then you put it’s aside

Or tape it up

Or hold it oh so delicately

Or fold it into cranes and planes

Send it flying on new adventures

There is nothing so loved

So seen and cared by me tonight

As a piece of written music