‘peace piece’ poem

look at those lovely
black and white photos
of Bill Evans at work

he played at times
with his face laid
almost on the keys

perhaps as much
to taste his notes
as hear them

always so aerial
so spacey
so  delayed

soft-pedalled
his soft petal notes
serenely fall

as blessed balm
on our conflicted planet:
they sing to multitudes

 

Jeff Cloves


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