Learning to Love Jazz

A flute
clarinet
bass clarinet
and trombone
are playing in the living room.

They are rehearsing a new composition
by my husband T.
He's a jazz musician.

I'm not much into jazz.

It's sometimes hard to find a melody
the solos can go on forever
the notes rub against
each other like a squeaky wheel

But loving someone who loves jazz
means it starts to creep up on you a bit.
You begin to wonder at how a horn player
scoops those notes off a page
and improvises a new strain
or you start humming the Freedom Suite,
can't get it out of your brain
and you enjoy wearing headphones
while you watch a movie
so you can hear Giant Steps
being practiced nearby.

Maybe this is how we fall into new loves--
open up your heart to a trombone
in the living room carrying
a few sweet notes to the kitchen
that settle peacefully
on a shoulder--
and you want this moment
to continue.