Time Between Strings

Time knots itself in the strings of an abandoned guitar,
a slow dust follows the beat of the wind,
the trees hold back silence, knots of leaves and resin,
and the guitar breathes, like evening stopping to listen.
When that knot gives way, an improvised melody is born,
the silence of the trees becomes music among the branches,
every note brushes the bark and awakens the steps of birds,
and the forest accompanies, at dawn, a new song.