Ukulele Life
Her practiced bow
placed on the string
Yet, you? No long-
rings into the night.
In your ukulele life,
each plucked note
hovers thin and short.
Your music endures
in the blur of a hand.
– Steve Peterson
I wrote this poem in the comments section over at Mary Lee Hahn's Poetrepository. I got to thinking about how some lives sing like violins and some plunk like a ukulele; both have their beauty, yet each requires
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