If Charlie Parker
Could hang his hopes
That someone
In some lost corner of history
Could blow a soaring reunion
With birdland fingers
Tremble dancing in flock

Then in this sapphire of an evening
His old ghost
Is pushing thermals for
These wings of notes to wander in
As they search for some secret progression  
That unlocks the amber stairway
To the burgundy heaven of jazz
Drink long enough and swint your eyes  
And you might almost mistake the
Stage lights for halos

This was a resurrection in B flat
That curved its broken body into the great throat of god
And begged us to come drink deep
From the red wine redemption of his voice
What else could we do but fill our glasses
And sip our way into sainthood
Off the liquid sound of heavens saxophone