Open Window

Open Window
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After days of heat
and sweat
and conversations with the Contessa

on when to air-condition-ate
ourselves

I wake up to a cicada
scratching the wind ...

from the wounds
comes dry-coolness
to the yawning light

so I fling open the windows
to let the music in

a commercial jet streaks the screen ...
the number "2" sloughs to a brief
ponderous exhilation at the semaphore
and bench below the window sill

the next shift of cicadas

slips out and into basswood leaves

one of them lug out a
saxaphone
jammin' a riff on oh, what beautiful morn

syncopation to the river
the clicks of jealous cardinals
and the quarrelling crows on
Franklin avenue

the "2" farts to a stop
... once more ...
the saxaphone cicada toots
through a chorus of
what a wonderful world

then climbs in
through hydraulic doors
and the wheels turn
on ... forward ...
with the light

diesal aromatics
spike the river breeze

a hint of midnight train
whispers
its prophesy
to the newly born
horizon

josjr (2011 0805)