The soft winds of a fall night
Whisper hope to me
The wind gently dances
With the feathers of my plume
It will be alright
Said the wind
You will have a good performance.

Set!
I am at attention
My head is up at the sunset
My tall posture meets heaven
I am the guardian
Of dusks arrival,
And all of fall
Fades into my show's
Theme of spring.

I step on beat
Cherry blossoms fall
Beside my feet
The sky fades into blue and pink
In the distance stands a mountainous prop
Oh mount Fuji she stands!
What a pretty sight
For the judges
To see on a competitive night.

My heart ascends to hope
I fly up and over
The peak of mount Fuji
The kids of the night
Play her song
We all ascend into the stars.

Dear Bass Clarinet,

I have no partner
To show affection for,
But deep in my core
I know
For sure
Love comes from the music
Our soul makes,
And that's is what
A bass clarinet is for.

Embrace me into every sharp
Like angels playing harp
My lips are kissed by the reed
And every note articulated
Leaves me in need.

Oh Bass Clarinet
I don't need a boy
To feel the joy
Your sound is enough
To make me feel loved.

I am on Mackinac Island,
Lying down on a big white lawn chair
In front of the Grand Hotel.  
The faint scent of fudge
Lingers on the air so I can almost taste it,
And my hair is getting constantly blown
By the wind that flows among the
Chairs, grass, and music.  
The music comes from the direction of the water,
Where an old style jazz band has
Temporarily set up shop,
Creating gorgeous silhouettes
Against the orange and pink sunset sky.  
The purring of the clarinet
Bounces off of me like the waves are
Bouncing on shore,
But even lighter than that,
Even lighter than the
Wings of the seagull trailing overhead.  
The clarinet drops in and out of sync
With the waves as the silhouettes start to
Bounce to the music.  
A distant bike bell dings,
But it matches so harmoniously
With the music that I don't notice it.  
Waves, bike, clarinet.  
Waves, bike, clarinet.  
A constant cycle interrupted only by
The saxophone and drums occasionally.  
Waves, bike, clarinet.  
The sun is set.  
Silhouettes turn to shadows.  
Waves, bike, clarinet.  
Waves, bike.  
Waves.

The voice of a flat clarinet
Sings through an open window
Through the warm, paved streets
Full of Honda Civics and ***** buses

The people turn off their bass blasting radios
And adjust their ears to the quiet music
Which softly sighs through the town
Through the busy bakery and the dusty church

The song dies too soon
And the world holds its breath
For one more second --
Exhaling noisy construction, business phone calls,
And the popular love songs that seem to play on repeat.

Forgetting the quiet clarinet song.

Puffs of thistledown
floating in the air.

Lovely lady
dark blue plums
and the tracery of lace.

'Toot' says a trumpet
to the cry from a clarinet.

Tinkling piano notes
flowing
lilting, rippling, fleeting
fleeing.

Bows, strings and violins.

Echoes of yesterday
fading into grey.