Jazz In the Wee Hours

3 am

up again

the house is still

soft jazz keeps me company

while I write

words of poetry

very faintly

I start to hear

A hidden drum beat

In the music

It is low, subtle



It is a heart beat



The night now alive

The beat pulls at

My consciousness

Brings me closer

To the speaker

Starts to thrum

In my blood

I am entranced



Who is this musician

Who has stolen stealthily

In these wee hours

And seduced me

With this clandestine

Percussive beat?


© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved


  1. Dear Christine, “Jazz In the Wee Hours” is lovely. You’ve pulled me in with your words. It’s a magical hour and even more so with the “percussive beat” of the music. Please have a beautiful Sunday, may it be filled with inspiration and creativity. ~ Mia


  2. I remember, not long ago, in a series of radio shows on notable jazz players, others talking about a bassist as the heartbeat of the band who kept everybody on the beat, who set the rhythm with both precision and creativity. Yes, the heartbeat is always there, waiting for, inviting ours to synchronize.


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