MOZART CALLS

Mozart's miniature calls
upon me at the grande piano
over boundless notes
from a breath of sunlight
committed to the morning
whose motif and motes
reveal a culture of volatility
in music heard in corners
of my family music school
as a bass, horn and cello is heard
by our own metronome's
dark hours passed by
anecdotes of critics who visit
my solfege and piano lessons
for an early admission door
to college's muted realms
as a neon butterfly shadows
to rise on  cathedral ceilings
near the blue marble fireplace
by a bone china vase
of Japanese flowers
in my great uncle Linwood's studio
around yellow and blue gentian
below a cathedral ceiling
in a mansion's window
with Mozart's miracle signature
revealing a lively body
of a home for Thursday concerts
in even numbered rows
as my hand plays in recital
your twenty third concerto.