An open sound
of notes
thawed with heat
what was cold
and deep with loss
with waves
of warmth
from fans
in heaven
rolling to the ground
turning over
knocking around
a sound
birthed as jazz
and rich with blood
pumping and breathing
finding a breath
speaking with voice
like bread rising
the sound grew
feeding and re-feeding
until it stood
tall and walked
heavy throughout
the land
where it lives
and grows
note by note.
Roger Singer 