The rain came hard this morning
Leaving one stream flowing down my window.
It captures me.
This is my river, wide enough for two boats to pass
Deep enough for a ship carrying cargo and music
A quartet from Chicago
Jazz from Basin Street.
At my back, the room has stayed the same for days
For weeks, for quiet months
But my river, with its beginning and end, keeps rolling
And I’ll sit on the boat deck, hearing the music
All the way to New Orleans.