PORTRAIT OF A JAZZ FLUTIST

 

There are riffs that can be played

To the roar of the ocean

   -- Did not Ulysses' sailors

      Hear the siren's song in the surf?

There are chords that can be struck

In the winter sky

   -- I have heard a winter night ring

      With the singing dance of ice crystals

      On frozen air

And trees

Dreamers in the singing winter night

Drum restless rustling percussion

In the windy season,

Conspiring with the sky to make music

   -- If I didn't love it so much

      I'd be jealous!

But then

Mother Earth only plays the classics

And I play

   Jazz!

She can play the fields and back roads

But I play

   Broadway!

She's got the moon

   But I've got neon!

 

Maybe she's jealous of me?

 

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