Trailing

It’s always the trumpet 
which hangs above somewhere 
near the ceiling up
high and slides slowly 
out of the door 
and then comes back 
like an anxious dog 
waiting for his walk
coming and going and 
coming back reminding me 
that it’s his turn 
the trumpet’s anxious loneliness 
to be free soon
invites and expects me 
to always follow it
on the adventure trail