A woodwind

The Sayersaurian Flute

Is wood from a child’s favorite stick

Left behind on a ambling walk home

And the pulped pages of never returned library books

With a slight barrel

Long as a paperback

Ending in a generous bell

Reedless

This rarest of instruments

Features a simple mouthpiece

And a series of tone holes

Covered by keys

Mismatched and Porcelain smooth

Each chunky key is Reclaimed

from a different manual typewriter

Surprisingly heavy to hold

The flute’s song is light to the ear

Each note sounded calmer than the last

A practice scale is sunny corner with a good book

A ditty, handmade blanket, great book, and steaming cocoa

Extra marshmallows

And a melody played spins a guiltless rainy day

Unbossed and not bothered

Propped up on pillows

In front of a snap and crackle hearth

With that beloved novel you read and reread

Falling in dream with each note