As I watched, the upright bassists hands, Became spiders jumping on silken strands. The bassist told a primitive tale That was interrupted by the trumpets wail. The trumpet argued the complexity The sax agreed with Melody. The drums enforced the upright bass. Rhythms feet stomped a monstrous pace. That sent up clouds of dust. The pianist swayed with lust For the moves of Melody. Hand in Hand, Rhythm and Melody, Danced a dance to set us free To set sparks in the musicians eyes That reinforced the saxs cries That gave force to the drummers beat And set springs beneath our pounding feet. A solo sprawled on the throat of the sax It loosened our bodies and let our eyes relax The guitarist told stories with his hands Of distant places and caravans The trumpet let out a powerful plea Causing us to nod and agree. A concentrated look on his face, Hammering his notes into place, The pianist made a floor On which Rhythm and Melody danced some more. They danced above the ground As the upright bass lent a solid sound And when the drum found his voice We were left without choice But to sway and stomp some more. So we happily stomped and swayed. We danced as the jazz band played!
Copyright © 1998 Tim Wheeler. All rights reserved.