In the daring minutes before daybreak

assembles an unlikely orchestra

patiently awaiting the rustling of toes:

an imperfect metronome

to break night from day

 

An organ player

on the tip of her eyelashes

A violinist strikes the bow

down her cheek

a frightening note

A harpist strumming

her lips, thin

quivering strings

 

And her mouth, exhaling melodies

crumbles slowly into a smile

 

The best prelude of all,

before morning time duties call

follows right after the band goes home

 

The symphony herself, the woman

arises—

 

The accordion that is her ribcage

breathing in sunlight

while the abdomen squishes air

and sleep out of the way

Mute notes out of her bellybutton

 

—

 

Some mornings

between the echoes of elsewhere

and birdsongs

I don’t always hear

 

her silent, private symphony

I am but a rare witness

to music making

thankful to welcome morning against her tune