Now

*Author's Note: I am writing this as it is happening, sitting at work, listening to the radio.

Keys and pedals

So mechanical

Make such a symphony

As the evening feels

A saxophone plays

And blue streaks

Cross my eyes

How can I swim

In a sound

The tapping of symbols

I can feel the concentration

In every note

So focused, yet

So effortless

Jazz isn't a horizontal line

It is many

Diagonal lines

The lines travel 

So quickly

But they never cross

I know how it feels

To be the breath

Traveling

Through each instrument

Paced

I could stay here

I could feel this way

Until I cease

Consumed

By uniform sound