Waking to Jazz

The alarm rings at the appointed time

I’m sure of it, even though I don’t look

Some things, you just count on –

like the ability of a clock to know the time

But the alarm isn’t ringing

it’s singing

and talking

the rhythm of jazz

the counter beat

to the woman’s voice

rich, dark chocolate

poetry

spoken song

to greet the day

Her words have already

faded into the place just beyond memory

but I am left with the sense

of enlargement – 

of being granted the gift

of being made more than I was

just a moment before

Before the beginning

I am yet blessed