Notes, while driving with Brubeck
(random riffs recorded on the road)
Concrete seams click beneath
the rapid turn of wheels
trying to impress the need
for arrival, as a sax greets an expanse of blue
waving on a horizon breaking free
of its cloudy blanket, revealing
more blue as grapevines,
in row after orderly row, march
up a snow covered slope,
drummer keeping the beat.
Gulls wander in from the lake,
and hilltop turbines can’t keep up.
Five takes, and no photo worthy of saving.
This ain’t no St. Louis, but the sky is still blue.