SEPTEMBER MORN in between coffee ... (POETRY)

SEPTEMBER MORN
in between coffee ...

September morn
whispers to me
into me
the gentle breeze
of a pasture so far away
so green so fresh as the meadows
of the mountains of oregon
of the rolling hills of savannah georgia
where the stories told
in between the smooth sound of
a wynton marsalis

of the eerie cries of a nina simone
of strange fruits hanging
of georgia on my mind
of the sweet aroma of a seattle brew
all these a feast of sound and laughter
told in between my musings
of greater days ahead

September morn
gentle a breeze you are
whispering sweet niceties
into the corridors of my soul
as the curtains to the windows of my heart
gently sway
like a slow rhythmic sway of a
jazz gone beautifully mad
with the grandioso of an afro-cuban jazz
of better days

i shall cherish this morn
of a September so subdued
yet so the breeze
as gentle a touch so tender
of the heart so pure
of a spirit so pristine
like a distance sound of a Latin jazz
of a children of sanchez'
the feel good of a chuck mangione
the lounge-jazz-classiness of a late night wailing
of a Kenny G

September morn
beautiful thou are
inciting the beauty in me
tender as I have become
from these beautiful words
I bathe in ...
while my story is being told
while i feel beautiful
within ...

-- ar