Flute

 Flute    

By Rob Kingston

Purged, the lips that rest upon the tanned wood, Breath transversing the depths of reed beds that travel drenching nasal hair with scents of mother earth.
Fingers poised ready relaxed release reverberations revealing melancholic sounds that reach the heavens as white doves in flocks flap feverishly rising from trees above a babbling brook to dance in skies of clear blue opulence, nothingness being gathered below and released from tips with each fold of a hundred outstretched wings, air rotating and spinning like ballerinas pirouetting into infinity with each flap.

Slowly and precisely fingertips lift and drop, squeezing shared oxygen to notes on a chosen scale. Drifting, my mind is drifting, floating, moving with sea lions dolphins and whales, treading the ocean depths as disturbed water oscillates and swirls with each horizontal wave goodbye.

Time ticks motionlessly, I sigh!

Relaxed, I close my eyes as soft soulful sounds tease drums with hollowed out tunes resonating in my mind as Turtles in shoals of millions breaststroke on thermals creating bubbles that rise and pop, newborn and little ones flipping and tumbling in a giants wake to the musicians chosen melodic pitch.

I am at one with the creator and the created, Moving, I am moving with the music into pastures green as hummingbirds tease flower blooms whilst butterflies join bees hopping and dipping tongues drinking from life’s Holy Grail.

An eagle soaring scouting above giant reds in a mountains shadow floats effortlessly turning and twisting, its head moving side to side as tail and wing feathers adjust the direction of its black and white image, occasional bursts of its squawk echoes bouncing upon white topped grey faced Crag’s, circling, circling, circling its motion resonating in tune to the flute.

© R. Kingston 28.7.2015 (All rights reserved )