Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Letter 1, October 17th



Particularly when
turning the corner
around the pond,
dried by half—
even now—from
summer drought,
I am compelled
to expect to see
you :  magically
reflected in the
darkest shadow
of wing in water.

Sometimes a dream
sneaks through a
morning haze,
sun a quarter hour
high in the rounded
distance, like a
foggy road slow
to burn, your
face appears,
as saintly as
the tall blue bird
keeping warm
in the golden
slice of new light
in preparation
for a long flight.

Let me beg you:
don’t stay gone
too long this year.

1 comment:

  1. Glad to see you are back as well. Love the subtlety here, the pensive, delicate sadness, and the last stanza is very good.

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