when my son fingers those keys,
notes of Beethoven or Debussy
float like delicate butterflies to
bring happy summer to my ears
like sweet notes of summer, our
time flutters by on soft wings as
his beard appears… soon Nevue’s
music on my piano may fall silent
(from “Play it again, Toads”, link to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads)
a poem in my pocket 