When the birds sing joyful songs
I wonder if they’re joyful —
or if they’re anything at all
with feelings like our own.
When music makers
make us sad or glad
are their emotions tuned in
to the sounds that they employ?
Perhaps the trumpeter
has had an argument at home —
perhaps the violinist is mourning.
Who knows what’s behind
the sounds that move us?
If we make music with our lives
it doesn’t mean
that there are those who know us.

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