Remnants

You hang,
     empty and brittle.
My sugar maple,
     your last stand.
Slit on your back,
    your creator's escape.
Now you hang,
     hollow and dry,
waiting for wind,
     to take your final flight.
Your presence, your husk,
     marks summer's end.

Emote

Calloused tips stretch,
               push lines of steel.
Pulling pitch,
               sculpting sound.
Melody drips rich
                salted notes.
leaving a trail
                of incorporeal inspiration.