In My Father’s House

Always first to rise

he usually sliped into daybreak

like a phantom – heading

(in jacket jeans white socks & loafers)

for Alemeda

the drowsy traffic

& buzzing electronics of Naval Air

But he plays a horn

& some mornings caught him

aching with jazz – reeling

in its chemistry & might:

Duke Bird Basie

riffs chords changes

softly grunted & mouthed

in his closet

in the hallway in