Missing Piano Playing, a poem

Driving home from DC
to avoid the coming blizzard,
nestled at home with Jane
to absorb whatever comes.

And I remember the piano
that I haven’t touched
in a week while away
on a week of climate action
from Massachusetts to DC.

Inside I smile
as I contemplate
interacting with the
ebony and ivory keys

And I smile
that “the piano
is in me.”

Something new in my
retired life
after just a few weeks
of playing, improving.

I appreciate our piano.