As if the contours of a tune could outline
the route of a voyage, the skyline of a view,
the way that a drawing maps the dancing
of a pencil across a blank sketchpad.
Each dip and crest, every slow climb or
gleeful descent, and every unexpected turn:
the episodes of even the quietest adventure.
The syncopation of living – breath’s rhythm,
the throat’s libretto, the cadence of the heart’s caprice -
is the ancient jazz, improvised over the pulse
of all the inescapable verities, the shifting pace
of footsteps across pavements or footpaths,
over carpets or lawns, up an aisle or down
a cul de sac. Each day’s makeshift medley
from reveille to finale, from dawn chorus
to lullaby, is merely a wordless song
offered in the hope of an encore.
Dave Wakely’s writing has been shortlisted for the Manchester Fiction, the Cambridge and Bath Short Story awards, and appeared in numerous journals and anthologies. Online Programme Manager for Milton Keynes Literary Festival, he lives in Buckinghamshire with his husband