The Sounds

Sounds in the happy morning,
Sounds in the smoke-filled gray of night,
Sounds in these maligned ears

Are fervid, are bright.
Miles and Stan make like reincarnations of pan.
The tortured soul of bird
Blows melodies, which, through some strange metamorphosis,

Still can be heard.
Lambert, Hendricks, and Ross
Wail with all their blood's force.
Captain Basie and crew blow
Thunderstorms: blue.

It's a feast! A jazz barbecue!