AT NIGHT
Shadows
intent on magic
sway on plaster walls
as dancing gray images
surrender to
kingdoms of jazz.
Horns with finger
tapping and pushing
tempt valves to sing
on streets of gold
where Gabriel’s heart frowns
jealous, of the cool
hots below.
The jazz continues
with a rush on high
with worshipping eyes
blending this and that
never fainting or falling
into tired.
Roger Singer 