Nocturnal singing
Published in
Apr 8, 2021
I’ll leave you lying on a tree
An owl, half-asleep in the morning
With your voice exhausted from nocturnal singing
Who said that jazz is just a music genre?
I feel the contrabass beating inside my veins
When I see you
I wore high heels to reach your branch
That will hurt me in the morning
But your feathers kept me warm
All night
When the sharp snowflakes of the past
Were piercing my skin
Joan Loyce, April 2021
