Thelonious Monk in Morning Fog

It’s almost a cliché to observe
how easily jazz conspires with night.
Just think of all those album covers
of parked cars bathed in neon light.

Driving to a dental appointment,
windshield wipers beating slow
syncopation with Monk’s quartet
in this sober, winter-morning glow,

I take my cue from brakes ahead,
(muffled alarms in powdered light)
and think jazz never sounded better
than in this fermata, this white night.