Short Spells

The task today was to write a curtal sonnet. I was only too happy to accept the suggestion of ditching iambic pentameter!

Melody Magic

I don't know how it's done;
weaving through notes like smoke
through a basement jazz club.
Enchanting in the tremolo.
Whispering with the strings.
The incantation of the beat.

Sometimes you just listen. Others
you're unfolding your careful heart.
On occasion we might harmonise,
and galaxies of stars fall reverent.

It's witchcraft.