Anna met her violin on Christmas day.
So happy to meet her,
she stretched out her hand and gripped the bow,
snuggled her close to her chin.
“I'll call you Felicity,” Anna said
because she heard music in the name.

Felicity was bashful,
gave a little squeal to let Anna know
what her teacher knew already,
that the first lesson is silent.

Not a sound
until something of the ritual is understood.

The proper greeting for a violin is
not a handshake or a kiss or a hug,
but a bending of the fingers around the bow
and a cradling of the neck, just so. 

Tuned and ticklish strings –
Felicity laughed, and then,
she sang
of wonder and a twinkling star.
Her voice was lovely.
And I wonder
how she will sound as the friendship grows
between the one who holds the strings
and the one who holds the bow?

So it is with the writer
who happens upon a new character.
There is a way of holding the pen
that stifles an emerging voice.
Perhaps the first encounters are meant to be silent,
so that all is still and waiting
when the character chooses to sing.