The Red Room
Carlos makes music on his flute.
He lives in the Green Room,
with its door just opposite mine
He creates the highest note of all
and it floats before me in the air,
a trapeze artist caught in a sunbeam
and suspended between the hands
that fling and those that catch.
His musical rhythms are different.
I try to follow his fingering.
In the space between notes,
tropical birds flash jungle colors
as they flit between flowers.
With a whirring of wings,
all music stops,
save for the robin’s trill
refreshing the early summer
with his eternal song.
I finally found a photo of Carlos.
Here he is, in Kingsbrae Gardens,
playing Beethoven’s Ode to Joy
on ‘half-filled’ water bottles
tuned to play a perfect scale.
Like an Andean bird, the man
could pluck notes from the air
and fill the world with music.