He’d sit for hours listening to old jazz albums as the skies outside let down rain…soaking the rust colored trees…mums on the back porch in colors of gold…rust…purple…and yellow stood straight up in their pots taking in the cool water from God’s eyes…

Were they tears of joy or pain that flowed from Jehovah…tormented by his creation…or well pleased that once again the seasons had changed…hard to say…hard to say…

And he couldn’t decide either…the same way he couldn’t remember the day of his baptism…so long ago…back when he was a kid and Jesus was feared…billboards warned him of the second coming…asking…,ARE YOU READY?…

But for now it was the jazz that saved his soul on this dark Autumn day…It was Oliver Nelson and his band…whoopin’ and hollerin’ with horns and drums…and loud prayers lifted up by the players…prayers of rejoicing…making sure that the soul was touched…touched…

His certainly was…