POEM: Winter Is For Big Bands

Winter Is For Big Bands

It’s when the sax soli starts that you know:
a more sure sign than the fire or the snow.
I miss him the most then, and the records
he’d play for me in front of the credenza
with the turntable hidden inside.
That’s where it started for me,
and that’s where I find refuge
during the winters of the world.
Glen Gray under his skies,
Artie Shaw as the cocoa cools
enough to drink.

/ / /

2 April 2024
Charlottesville VA
NaPoWriMo Day 2