Bach on Zoom by Corinne Demas

Corinne Demas is the author of thirty-five books, including five novels, two short story collections, numerous books for children, a poetry chapbook (The Donkeys Postpone Gratification), and a book for kids about the pandemic.   She’s a Fiction Editor of The Massachusetts Review and a Straw Dog Writers Guild member. www.corinnedemas.com

Bach on Zoom

I

First, the yielding of brown to green.

The ferns emerge pale and fuzzy as chicks, 

scrolls coiled tight.

Mindless of proximity, they nestle,

nod, and genuflect. 

Stem caressing stem,

fiddle head against fiddle head. 

 

II

This conversation, our little world 

defined: my bow, Bach’s lament.

Our shared sorrow. 

My fingers curl over the fingerboard,

find the notes,

create his order best I can. 

Put in tune a world 

out of tune.

 

III

Old friends, now a continent apart,

we let Bach speak for us, in turn.  

Strings, then keyboard, singe 

the air across the harmless mountains,

harmless plains,

out of synch by seconds.

I watch her fingers touch the piano keys,

Then, a breath later, hear the notes. 

 

IV

My granddaughter stands on a rock,

faces the woods beyond her.

Arms raised, she conducts

the chorus of spring peepers

in the darkening marsh. 

The fiddle heads uncurl at her feet.