A fallen oak.
It’s mahogany wood now a frame, forming
a violin. The bark has been stripped. The
tree is vulnerable, naked.
Easily scratched tarnished and
chipped. The splinters now smoothed,
reveal the wood’s
unique structure and decor. Where swirls
and licks of natural detail lie in sequences
beneath the varnish.
A violin whose exterior is
as sensitive and porcelain as its music.
The oak thrives in its emanation
of forest musk through the hollow f holes.
It thrives in the reverberation of musical soundwaves.
In the tones projecting
from its belly.