jazz hands

His hands wish for music -

strong and sturdy, beautiful,

willing magic chords out of silent strings.

The groove in his mind -

like a session with Miles at Birdland -

is worlds away from this practice room stool.

“Is it worth it? This hunger? This want?”

I ask, and in a voice like his eyes,

deep as the echoes of jazz,

he says, “Yes, can’t you hear it?”