VIENNA :: city of music

Black and white

Like pure white gloves
Gliding across
Piano keys,
Seamlessly jumping
Back and forth—
Staccato!—
Or rolling scales or
Gentle chords—
Legato.

A breath of steam

Crisp morning air
Surrounds proud white
Buildings wearing
Frills and cravats.
Morning dawns.
Raise the trumpet to your
Lips, a triumphant call.

Spilling sunlight

Light the way to
Your great churches,
Your operas and
Temples of music.
Golden halls and
Grand palaces with
Gardens spilling out
Onto high hills.

Raise the baton.

The band is ready,
The reeds are wet
And the strings tuned.
It is time to
Conduct your own opera,
Make your own way.

The city of music
Bids hello
And adieu.