The Grain Beneath the String

A recording has travelled
in two formats.
The files have arrived;
their meaning still has to make
its own crossing.

Another song is being made,
this one aiming for acoustic sound.

Picture the wooden body of a guitar:
pale grain curving
around the dark opening,
six strings held above it
with just enough room to move.

A tiny motion could set
the whole surface answering.
Too much pressure could silence it.

The lyric has a similar difficulty.
Hold every word too firmly
and the phrase may lose its ease.
Let everything drift
and the thought may not arrive.

Try one line.
Keep its meaning close.
Notice where the breath
would need to turn.

The pattern offers three even steps,
then a longer reach,
then somewhere
to stand.

Whether that shape survives
the making of the sound
is a question for listening,
not a promise made by the page.

In the imagined guitar,
the grain does not run straight.
It carries small turns
that the polished surface keeps.

Let the work keep its history, too:
the earlier version,
the changed word,
the reason for changing it.

Beyond the intention
there will be an actual sound.

Meet it there,
with enough patience
to hear the difference.