~

set the metronome

on sixty beats per minute, children,

stay on the beat and count,

by twos, to thirty. ready . . . go . . . two . . . four . . . 

six . . . eight. very good. now, on the beat,

count to thirty-one, by by twos,

beginning on one. ready . . . go . . . one . . . three . . .

five . . . seven. and the class loses the beat

and sputters to a halt.

~

evens are tulips. odds are orchids.

evens are all is right with the world.

odds are finding beauty in unexpected places.

evens are the smooth.

odds are having to work a little harder to get there.

~

how i loved the even numbers,

so easily managed, and how disturbing i found the odds.

until, one magical day i found the fulcrum,

there, in the center, and i felt

as one feels when they put on a shirt

fresh out of the dryer on a cold winter day—good.

~

now i play on the upbeat, on the and, 

just to do it, not often, my life is off beat enough as it is,

but enough to, oh, i don't know, do it. that's all, just to do it. to feel good.

~

there is no reason to fears the odds,

but we do, some of us.

happy endings and landing on the tonic 

comes naturally. it doesn't

have to be that way, hansel and gretel could have

not found their way out of the woods

and landing on a tonic seventh has been known to happen.

~

i'm feeling a little at odds.

it's okay.

what i feel isn't worth fretting over.

there are bigger things, world peace and so on.

this little bit of odd, it happens.

it has happened before. it will happen again.

~ 

tock, tic