Fluttering through the colorless meadow
Settling upon an ivory bouquet
And scurrying away
Hovering over a mellow seven
Floating idly to another place when the time is right
Without care for speed or structure
Wandering, weaving a web of sound
Spinning, threading, developing, modulating:
As falls the web, so surfaces the ebony.
Strike in seconds!
Double devils’ dissonance
Roughly resonates, though the fingers freeze.