A willing sax throws out notes
like hungry fishermen
with long lines of baited hooks
into deep swirling waters
where souls swim
as the wiggling masses tread close
with thirsty ears and anxious hands
breaking hard the surface
calling them that want
as eyes go wide and feet twist
under shouldered sways
while bright colors form a flow
thick with sweaty smiles and
hooked on golden verses of jive,
setting tight the line of jazz.
Roger Singer 