Everybody claps out of synch
in the midnight elegance of “Wine Ohs”

but the bass player hums
at the twitch of the sunken keys
that man who leans back crying a New York cry
and sweet daddy saxophone wailing a New York wail

and they all pale and bow with respect
to the young drummer with bright eyes that nobody knows
and nobody knows where he came from or how old

Who’s soul I remember meeting from Easterly winds
only to find himself on stage with strangers
in a plane of rhythm and ruthless time
in a freedom jazz dance