Thursday, April 27, 2006

Learning to Love Jazz

A flute
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.


Blogger Kathleen said...

wow...todd looks so cool in that photo!
not that he doesn't ALWAYS look cool...
but jeez...

maybe it's the suit.

lovely post.

12:00 AM  
Anonymous KMS said...

I read this last night, but the image of the notes peacefully on your shoulder have stuck with me. I keep thinking of that image and it is such an intimate portrait of love that it really is resting in my heart.

Thank you.

10:04 AM  
Blogger Deezee said...

beautiful, just beautiful...

10:43 PM  

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