little owl

Oh, to see through the eyes of a child
the pictures music makes.
My fingers on the piano
are brushes gliding through paint.

Earthy brown,
sparkling silver and blue-
I feel the pale shine
of a faraway moon.

Then, pressing the pedal
down with my foot,
I add drops of water
to the paint.

Colors soften into
the shape of a tune-
the watercolor cry
of an owl in June.