Even on this Sunday night

Even on this Sunday night, after family dinner,

children gone home, dishes done; it's late,

she's tired.

she goes upstairs, reverently releasing the two clasps

to open the flute case, delicately sliding the head joint onto

the body, then the foot onto the two joined pieces.

she raises it to her lips and plays,

first softly and slowly Moon over Ruined Castle, 

faster through Madrigal and then fastest yet through

Sonate,

dishes long forgotten, the upcoming work week of 

no concern, only the sound and the feel of her flute

vibrating in her hands, everything falls away, eventually

even her flute drops to her side as she delicately 

separates the head joint from the body, then the foot,

reverently placing each piece into the velvet case, 

pressing closed the two clasps, click, click.

even this Sunday,  late at night, this ritual

that ends as the moon rises overhead into an

otherwise velvet dark night.