Not blues in twelve
but there is joy
and pink champagne,
the makers music
trading eights
in syncopated synergy
from Dixieland to Rock n Roll,
and here the cornet-master
leads in tones
a trumpet cannot blow.
The sidemen nod their harmonies,
engrossed;
their music coursing
through an energy of swing;
piano-players fingers
dancing round the tune;
a lovers touch
caressing melody from bass;
and sax, deep throated tenor
shouting counterpoint
above the drums
percussive ricochets.
Not blues in twelve,
but upbeat late
and shimmying
like Sister Kate.
The cornet-master
blows
an emptiness away.
