An Amen

I thank you, God, for the piano.

My hands are together, raised to the sky.

My knees are on the ground, and I'm looking up in placid deference.

Thank you for that beetle with the black carapace

and those 88 clitter-clattering legs;

they sing in the wind when articulated like the crickets;

those eyes that peer at you with their whites from under a single stern brow.

Thank you for that noble, girthy elephant.

For that tiger.

I love you, Piano.

I want to make you scream and growl and chatter and gasp and sing.