Initiate

I play my trumpet
in the backyard.
It is not a concert,
no one was invited,
but you can hear me
a few houses down
and I know you are listening.
We are hearing the same notes
on the wind, in our muscular grins.
Your lips were built for this too.
And you have been at it far longer.
Tell me, what would it sound like
to play with me? What would it feel like
to become a band of leaves, two trees close enough
where if there were an audience
they'd call us a forest.