Lute

Lute Curved, inviting, light, it has the look of antique ships, a galleon bulge of straight-grained woods. Fretful cat-gut cords coiled taut by silver screws above the calibrated neck conceal a thousand foot-pound pirouette. Child of Sirocco and Spain, veils, fans, brocade, and lace, olive, vine, and orange surprise, its plangent sound irrigates the moonlit air peeks through black-eyed jalousies. Dowland, Cutting and our solid Bach crocheted arabesques of tuneful notes like pearls, rubies, emerald stones, to pluck or tease from that dark pupil a winking smile of treble Sun.