jazz over firecrackers ~ poem 104

It wasn’t quite dusk and the dogs and I wandered out to the deck to sit. What are the odds? Nearly two weeks past the 4th of July and some preteen boys began popping firecrackers in the woods behind my house. How irritating, I thought. Bodhi, the shepherd, started running back and forth in the yard, barking and Mia, my little one, was vigilant with fear. I grumbled then had a plan: I would go into the kitchen and grab the single cd player and play some music real loud from the deck. It would either annoy the boys or at least drown them out.

The music made its effect on me. I forgot about the boys and, in fact, they did disappear quickly. The cd I had grabbed was Miles Davis, “Kind of Blue.” Miles Davis was on trumpet, John Coltrane on tenor sax, and Julian “Cannonball” Adderley on alto sax. I’ve always appreciated the saxophone. At one time, I had a fantasy of playing it. Tonight, though, I began listening to jazz as I looked through a magazine.

poem

the cool breeze of sax playing
through the air; citronella candles light the way
to the truth that music and dusk bring.

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