Talking To Charles Lloyd

Talking To Charles Lloyd

         Sheets of swallows swerve outside my window,
                    and disappear down the drain around the corner
                    as the saxophone swings singing into a slow song.

         The melody dreams and I am stunned while it spreads
                    where my heart starts.

         The piano knows when not to play, painting silent spots,
                    then, time fingers the keys like wings brushing wings.

         Drums running without touching down on the ground,
                    are pushing the sound around, while the bass chases.

         Soul waves wash ashore, the music is peaking,
                    then gently speaking love’s secrets.

         So I turn my head and hear the wind whisper quietly
                    the final
                              harmony.

September 16, 2009

Arlington, Virginia