The Clarinet's Soft Rapture

The soft sounds from her clarinet is like a gentle breeze over an ocean,
Each cord change is the waves rolling over the tranquil deep waters,
In crystalline exposure they will reap,
The sweat upon her lip.

With the change in rhythm her clarinet is hot like the desert sun,
Extending far into the stream of sweltering sand dunes,
Miles accumulate within her fluttering fingers,
No sand dust collects upon her nimble hands.

With another change in rhythm her clarinet’s is the falling leaves in the forest,
Where the hard gust of wind meets the soft swaying limbs,
The skies rest upon the clarinet’s keys,
The sunlight shimmers upon her agile fingers.

And in the quiet ambiance she plays for the world,
Her fingers softly caressing nations,
From the mountains to the valleys the clarinet’s vibrations in charge,
With the expressions of wonder in her eyes.