My husband and I were walking along Walton Street, where the restaurants and bars are. It was summer, and the full moon was out. We could hear music, and I could pick out the sax, which is my favorite instrument.

My love of sax goes back to my oldest sister, Char. She is nine years older than I am, and she had a friend who played the sax. He would sit on the corner and serenade her.

Then, as an adult, I got interested in blues, and there's a lot of sax in that. I guess I'm a frustrated blues singer, because if I'm reading a poem, I like to get into that throaty, guttural sound, like a sax. But in this poem, when I think of the sax, it's higher, like a wolf howling at midnight.