Filtered sunshine mottles my life.
Sad shadows and warm sunshine
come and go.
I am at the mercy of moving clouds.
My life,
a weather map.
I search for some control.
The blues bring deep shadows.
Jazz is my request for sunshine.
I march to sounds made by others,
my shade ,
blues singer’s misery.
My sunshine is subtle
as it slowly eats away the clouds.
I need that music to sooth my time.
Music soul-fuel alters the weather.
Quickly,
happy jazz to face another day.
Play the blues to accompany tears.
Mellow is that land between sun and shade.
Tears are for sorrow and pain,
and for joy and understanding.
Tears for mellow can be hidden
in the smoke in the cabaret,
in that darkened room
keeping it cool.
Let the sax whisper of possibilities.
The trumpet calls the ghosts to the stage,
make the piano quicken the beat
and the base leads a happy march
for the drummer in a heavy sweat.
Finally have the singer tell
of possibilities and memories.
There is no sun or shade in the jazz night.
Instead, smiling jazz or weeping blues.
Weep or smile
For the jazz night holds back the day.
Here is a special place
to make your own weather.