The Sweet Note

I reach for a note as
I stand on tiptoes in my throat.
I manage to grasp it but
it is a shrill and uncomfortable note,
unaccommodating.

Thinking like this is like
rubbing my head and
patting my stomach and
then reversing the action.

If it is a high note I imagine
I am on a top rung of the stave
and looking down on it,
at my fingertips,
waiting for me.
If it is a low note,
I think I am on a lower rung.
I just reach out and pluck it
where it is waiting like
a sweet fruit.
And then when I am ready
I step down from the stave with
a song that is easy to sing.

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