The Brass Quartet

In the heat of the morning, outside, bright

sun, we sat ourselves down, a semi-circle, of sorts,

of hard chairs, perhaps more a “V” shape, 

to play our music, the four of us, all brass,

a quartet of parts, a tribute to ourselves,

we “Senior Citizens,” as some would call us,

still playing, a long ago learnéd skill,

perhaps less refined than younger days,

but still making music, still sharing friendships

over melodies composed, these strings of notes

arranged and harmonized, slightly out of tune,

the tunes, though, which hold us together

as the years decrescend into old age.