Fontegaia reaches watershed.

13

 
Light pattering of lakewater along the rocks.
Cool air; strange sighing in the tamaracks.
Lead sky.  Ineffable figures fingers make,
tripling across piano keys.  Heartbreak.

 
Beneath immaculate octave-dance
implacable forces held in check.
Harsh steel's taut harp-neck,
yoked by calm endurance.

 
As tiniest calibrations of a brown recluse
enfold a pattern coiled in an attic room
for centuries... so ponderous doom
plights equilibrium (4 sides of Opus 1-3-2).