Tuesday, May 03, 2016



As the light of Spring leaks into my dreams,
I gather the shadows of winters past
under the black wool coat on my shoulders,
a shelter for shy mirrors of moonlight.

A mountain, up close, is not how you imagined.
Its profile alters inexplicably with each step.
Just above the rocky cliffs, a gray ribbon,
a lone eagle, flickering in the wind.

Never had I been seized by the charms of Egypt,
aside from a passing fancy for hieroglyphs,
yet now a pyramid shimmers in stippled carpet,
and Anubis lurks in the paisley of my quilt.

Though I plunk along on an untuned piano,
the ghost of Schubert appears, undeterred.
I am alone, I declare. But I overhear the murmurs
of Ivan and Alyosha among the sticky leaves.





                                                                                                 















when trees as gilded as bees

Above the 61st parallel, the colors of Autumn mark our parting with the bees, and the last days of real warmth. I had begun to transl...

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