The warm water
of jazz
found favor
on my ears
cleansing the
inner me
rolling cool
into air
bad with thirst
forming breezes
lifting hair
and silk skirts
blowing licks
and healing
suffering wounds
with the gift
of pure song
like stars born
falling to
earth and into
the hearts of
horns and strings
with breathes
that bless
you with
hope.
Roger Singer 