Hinterland Jazz

Summertime
The heat soothes muh sweat—somehow.
At dusk, our sun makes a hazy sky pink, and gray
as he makes his way to rest fo tha night;
somewhere, back off in a distance from the Delta.

A humid breeze blows lightly,
Like the calmin breath of the South.
And then stops
Leavin a stifflin’, eerie stillness in the air,

Right across from the green fields of cotton
That ole white post fence needs a tackin’, wit more fixin
But it still ran its distance, along that ole dusty road
The one where ole Miss Zora trods along,
like she does about every evening
Hummin’ & singin some ole-timely soundin’ slave spiritual,
Hummin’ and singin’ like she was hurtin something awful.
She sounds like her soul had been hurt, but she could still find joy in it
She made it swell and die sorrowfully in my ears

It sounded so terrible,
Listenin’ to that ancient lady sing about pain.
Terrible but beautiful—revealin' to my soul some of her woeful wisdom
Every note had it’s own peculiar type of grief, too awful for words

Slaves used to gather up cotton in that same field
The same one Miss Zora walks by each day.
& she neva looks ova there, no—neva glances its way!
She just walks along, wit her nose up,
just enough not to make her seem proud, but not haughty.

I thought I saw the blackness of a field hand’s ghost
like it was tremblin’ under the whips of deadly work
and cryin’ fo a spirit at the ropes of Reconstruction’s lynchins’

The wind stirred up again, offerin nothin’ but more mugginess,
While we sat on that rustic front porch
Sippin our booze and reminiscin’ back,
To those good old days, and the bad ones as well.

Sachmo’s sharp trumpet pierced the background
With a little more raspiness in that next “summertime”
We listened to the piano dancing along with his voice

“One of these mornings, you’re gonna rise up singin!!!
Yes, you’ll spread your wings, and you’ll take to the skies.
But til’ that mornin’, there’s nothin’ that can harm you!”

Miss Ella’s pretty voice came behind his:
“Oh, your daddy’s rich, and your ma is good lookin’!
So hush little baby, and baby don’t you cry!”

The barefoot children ran around the house
Jus’ by their laughin’ you could tell they didn’t have a care in the world.
I lean back a lil’ more, my rockin’ chair squeakin’ and sayin something else.

My ole friend beside me had drifted off to sleep now,
lettin' the winds and times lull him to it.
I thought I should do the same now,
I was growin tired....