Pizzicato

In the coldness of this winter

 I turn inside myself

and ponder the mysteries of this life

and as I sit wrapped

 in the warmth

 of lessons learned and meant to bes

my mind turns to hands
 the color of ambered honey
and a voice
 that dispels
 all thought
of sleet or snow
every movement felt
 the neck long
 the fingers deft
the strings taut
 the vibrations of inspired intention
 are liquid fire
 that
heats
 my
core