There’s a song that I sing,
it escapes me
without thought,
no lyric but lilt.
Leaves me winded
and dizzy, though I manage
the pace of the line.
I breathe on the beat
where my grace notes should be
to precipitate delicate action.
In lush exhalation
I hum in the shift
of two tones.
© Chagall, 2013
Alphabet City 