Fiddle Says
Play
me.
Give
me your bones and blood, your bow
so
I may remember when sap ran through
me.
When my tallest limbs aspired toward
heaven.
And my leaves conspired with
light
to spackle the forest floor with gold.
When
root-weary giants leaned against their
neighbors’
groaning trunks until lightning
delivered,
with a crack, its coup de gras.
Remind
me how in the darkness creatures
came,
cloaked in their hides, to drink at the
stream.
The deer came on tiptoe, moving
as
one body. Foxes shattered the night with
quick
screams. And the black bear’s heavy
tread
made me shudder, in case my flesh
might
be ripped by its claws. Show me
how
the birds lit on my boughs and gave
me
their song. How in springtime tree frogs
mimicked
the voice of my heart and randy
squirrels
chattered and loved, filling my
branches
with play. My shape is awkward.
But
tuck me under your chin. If your wrist
and
elbow go numb, if your fingers cramp,
play
on. A touch of pain sweetens the music.
(Words and images copyright Cathy Larson Sky, 2018)
