Ode on the Piano

Eighty eight ivory slabs 
that rest in array. 

An arrangement 
of sable and snow 
that lies linear 
left to right, 
of gloomy coal 
and light ash 
still limned in luster, 
of shadowy dusk 
against dazzling dawn 
still shedding its shimmer. 

Each graze and touch 
of lustrous levers 
breathe breath and brawn 
into heavy palms, 
wooden fists, 
to strike steel strands, 
rich tones resonating 
from thunderous bass, 
yet still soft 
and sonorous, 
to a shrill treble, 
yet just as canorous. 

Each stream and cycle 
of twelve tones 
blossom and bloom 
into mystic melodies, 
mellow harmonies, 
ever so melancholic 
and yet so mirthful. 

Each string and series 
of absonant chords, 
every seventh 
and eleventh 
clash and collide, 
but coalesce, still, 
into one dulcet sound. 

Ever so erratic, 
ever so rhapsodic, 
that is the beauty 
of the piano.

--Zhiwen L., 9th-12th Grade