Vibrations behind eyelid magnify
exploding sensors in inner cortex
with soothing, calming, implicit élan
that thrills spinal cord, wired head-hairs—
such the violin’s delicate finesse.
Its sweetness is like sunrise on a hill,
bloom of a red rose bejeweled with dewdrops,
green-sheen encasement of a chrysalis,
fluttering flight of monarch butterfly,
peaceful awe of horizon summer moon.
Youngest of joyful, antique instruments,
fashioned of spruce top, maple neck, bridge, ribs,
ebony fingerboard, willow blocks, brass bar.
Violins improve with age like great wines:
makers hold secrets of the mystic craft.
But even greater secrets are burnished
in the hands of great violin masters
like Kreisler, Heifetz, Oistrakh, Menuhin,
Stern, Faust, Mutter, Meyers, Perlman, Bell and….
Five centuries of hypnotic technique:
Amati, Guarneri, Stradivari,
and those imaginative composers
who create those slender swerve-curves of thrill
that seize the listener’s presuming neck,
freighting the brain such Elysium joy.