December sunday

white jazz singer scats
my father wouldn't like her
i miss his great ears

i sang that tune once
hills alive with music's sound
all i must relearn

light streams through white blinds
bright gold bars float on wood floor
bird shadows flutter

crocheting Christmas
new designs meet old standards
trees, neckwarmers, love

my family
people i don't know talking
on the radio

Sunday radio
secular worship, hearing
all day NPR

La Bohème, Carmen,
Madame Butterfly, Mommy,
i hear you in these