as the fluttering strings played out,

the tuner paused, amazed 

by the bend,

trained ears regarding familiar trails, phrases 

departing time signatures

the sweet simplicity of it all,

a rapt mind heeding this ritual from musicians who came before

and offering her hands to wash,

water pitcher with cotton towel at hand

fingers searching sandy beaches,

her eyes closed as if predicting the movement of clouds,

delight emanating from this perfect clarity of sound,

ears made to see

eyes made to hear

St. Louis, 1972