Be my legato among the cold white trees,
the sketched gray branches,
trunks perpendicular to a dark,
remembered river.
Each distinct melodic tone draws to the next
in the foreground of a scatterplot,
that needs a higher plane,
to decipher patterned ease and purity,
an evenly sustained release
of shortest silences between sounds,
that they may foster voiced relay
of shared reach,
a conjoined sight reading
toward a brighter sound
of measured flight.
