Night Jazz: Stanley Turrentine(1934-2000) After Birdsongs

Listening to the birds sing outside first

in the cool spring air

shouting after the dog

exploring scents

(it was the fox or the cat or perhaps a lynx)

now with a mug of old coffee beside me

clock ticking towards five a.m.

it's Stanley Turrentine's time

to fill my mind with colours

feelings racing around

like there would be a reason

to be cheerful and hopeful

in this world

where you rise up after falling

only to notice

you broke your knee

hobble forward

until you have to crawl

and die beside the road

that's the human fate

but birds don't know

and nightly jazz

now makes me feel

I don't care

when I do

all of us seven billion cripples

hobbling on after some receding dream

fata morgana

until that grave beside the road

is for dug for each of us too

09.05.2015