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Early Morning Solitude
Phyllis Wax

Out of the summer air mellow notes

nudge loose the memory—a Bolivian flute

heard first on the trail ahead,

then in the distance and around a bend,

next afloat from a peak over our heads

as we hiked in the hills outside La Paz .


I look around.


A solitary figure sits in a chair in a shady spot

on the bluff, a clarinet at his lips. If he shifts

his eyes from the music stand

he can gaze upon glittering Lake Michigan .

He fits into the Milwaukee landscape 

like that Incan flutist was part of the Andes .

He plays Ellington.




© by Phyllis Wax.
Used with the author’s permission.



Phyllis Wax writes in Milwaukee, Wisconsin on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan.  A lover of warm weather, she watches the snow come and go, waiting and hoping for spring. From the window in front of her desk, she observes an abundance of migrating birds, several generations of turkeys, and the occasional fox, deer, and raccoon. Some of those make their way into her poetry. Phyllis has read her poems on the radio, in coffee shops, in libraries and bars, and her work has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies.


Post New Comment:
That's magic! your poems are great mother!
Posted 02/16/2015 11:25 PM
I am there listening. Thank you for this lovely poem.
Posted 01/14/2014 10:12 PM
Music is a uniter, poetry, a word provider of that unity. Thanks, Phyllis. Marilyn Zelke Windau
Posted 09/15/2012 09:30 PM
Such a weaving of past and present. I love your poem Phyllis. All your poems.
Posted 09/15/2012 01:28 PM
Wonderful how memory connects the two events. Beautiful poem, Phyllis!
Posted 09/15/2012 10:50 AM
Lovely poem, Phyllis. I can hear the music.
Posted 09/15/2012 10:35 AM
I love Phyllis Wax's poetry. Her imagery draws the reader in to become an integral part of the experience about which she is writing. Susan Winebrenner
Posted 09/15/2012 09:52 AM
Janet Leahy:
Music for the soul in unexpected places, lovely poem.
Posted 09/15/2012 07:53 AM

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