In the ash-gray sky, where the ravens drift
in the Bruegel scene, over winter
panorama – harbor
& skating rink, riddle & gift...
In remote perspective, the raven’s eye
reaps furtive memory,
most ancient flame. We
walked together, you & I
down the dawn street, in spousal light;
only a pigeon-murmur
echoed our passage there.
The hearth’s full of embers (life is night).
Old man Boethius steps out
his syllables, each
vowel like a cherished
peach. This radiance will cast
doubt into shade (beneath pine branches
where salted gratitude
savors his fortitude).
Beatrice-Columbia suddenly launches
into sweet aria of praise
when Jonah surfaces
from dove-grey eyes
of everlastingness Apollinaire’s
fumes filter into laughter
War to End All Wars
a cloverleaf surprise
renders mercy on earth hereafter