The Guitar

There’s work in making a guitar.
It’s mostly in the bending,
steaming the wood
until it curves like an hourglass.
Trees bend to the wind and rain
like wood shaped and fitted
to sing. Wood yields to the song,
to the air that rushes through it.
Wood resonates with a player’s breath,
a finger’s touch.
Surely Mary did no more,
no less, when she said:
“Be it done unto me
according to thy word.”

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