ravel's piano music
is like a bird,
emotion which has
a tendency to flutter
in a wholly early
20th century way
(has the feeling of
idyll, that which
is isolated but
free, wandering
and soulful;
dainty--french
stirred to flighty
passion, or
perhaps anger
(grief silent
and incomprehensible as
the sea)

like expressionism
prancing at times
like a white horse
with plumes--
or an ocean wave in sunlight.

one can hear
society behind
his music
(rachmaninovian
for a moment,
or perhaps
like shostakovich
in movement and feeling,
but always light,
like a shy faun, afraid to move too fast or
furiously, merely revolving in playful circles
by itself in the
sunlight of a
field somewhere in the south of france)