Birth of the Cool: Minnesota
I know, Miles,
you didn’t have rural southern Minnesota
in mind when you
blew your classic mute
on your Birth of the Cool
sessions in New York, circa 1949.
But it’s the way the paper-thin
ice forms on the edge of the lake
today in late October:
meeting at the cold, dark water’s edge
–still open and free
though not for long–
with the ripples of these short, choppy
muted notes of yours
blown just out of reach
this cool windy autumn morning.
excerpted from Stompin’ at the Grand Terrace: A Jazz Memoir in Verse by Philip Bryant
[ click to read at Shelf-Awareness.com – about 2/3 scroll down the page ]