To Mozart
Upon hearing what you heard
And relayed with such devotion,
The soul arises as a bird from a puddle,
Shaking off its present absorptions,
Abandoning its own reflection,
Drawn toward an infinite horizon,
It's nudged along by wind-borne petals,
Entranced by a piercing blue
In a sheer, receptive sky.
Copyright © Carol Mays | Year Posted 2015
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