Josef Sudek, home of Leoš Janácek (1948).
There’s a place for your hands
And another for your feet.

You look. You breathe. 
You count. You play.

It’s just as responsive as you 
would hope wood would be.

Eventually you learn to play 
with your whole body

like you’re gently blessing 
the music into the keys,

your elbows nudging,
your wrists pliant,

your fingers curved 
and lifting,

a fragrant sheet
caught on a line.

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