An Orchestration... for Lavinia

In concerto,
A full orchestration,
The sounds of the strings, when perfect,
Are tangy,
And tug at my heartstrings,
Like the first kiss,
Of a love born in spring.

The glorious sounds,
Of a perfectly struck chord,
On a violin or viola,
Is music to my soul?
A wispy celebration of the surreal.

And then deafening,
Shattering such serenity,
The horns pounce,
Trumpets flailing,
Like my spirit at present,
As if Miles Davis,
Sans quartet,
Demanded my attention.

In concerto,
In one perfect orchestration,
Like the Brandenburg,
I know the twang, the pounce, the wispy and the sharp,
As I know the very blood flowing through these tired veins.

SDM