Poem by Betsy Sholl

From a friend in Ottawa Piano Group:

Poco a Poco  ~ Betsy Sholl

Yellow practice books with their stammer names,
Buxtehude, Beethoven. And clumped notes,
dense thickets, weeds stuck to a fence,

fingers or vines – burr-tangle of stop-start,
try harder, hack through, and always
at the same place: blocked,

as if somebody at a gate or just the gate
said, “No. Not you.” Some stupid password:
boy, blanket, battery, Bach. Stupid keys

stupid fingers bang till the strings tremble,
then toss the book. But the notes don't shake loose.
Notes or birds, flashing past, out of reach,

calling “So long, sucker.” Sucker
with stuck mouth, stuck piano. Or girl
making a splintery ruin. So much racket

there's a stillness after. A bird calls.
Not pretty, but it gets an answer.
So, there's try again – like tiptoe then,

finger by key, ear bent close, careful
not to disturb, like words whisper-sung,
slow, one at a time before a phrase comes,

notes before music, one hand before two,
till – poco a poco – finger peck
at seeds, first a few, then a flock

as outside sparrows back and forth
yard to yard don't hesitate a second
flying through holes in the neighbour's fence.