至纯小提琴

theywatch as my  fingers  fly up and  down

 the neck of the

violin, like
a small, slender bird,
just a bundle of wood
and string but light as air
and with a voice so clear
it might as well be
human, the way
the bow coaxes out the
notes and makes them sing,
it makes me forget that mortal
hands and not the angels could
have pieced together such 
a strong and fragile
little thing