As music begins
to infuse a soul,
the body closes its eyes
embracing the toll.
Like a coveted drink,
it enters the ears,
cleansing the body
with so much more than hear.
The smell of the notes,
whether earthy or sweet,
bring tears to closed lids
inscribing their beat.
Fiddle strings tickle
sensitive nerves,
and with shape of the wood
a body flows with its curve.
The thunderous bass
resonates willing bones;
all control of their movement
one gladly disowns.
To this marionette,
all strings are connected;
mind, body, and soul
contagiously infected.
Eight mandolin strings
latch on to eight ribs;
the remaining ones
swiftly cast away on this ship.
The guitar, not forgotten
plays its integral part,
conducting the strings
ever toward the heart.
Now, occasionally, an instrument
must sing alone,
but it’s never long
strings rejoin the tone.