I never knew a whisper, soft and sweet, could sing
In tranquil lapse. The starshine shimmery and waltzing into
Breath. When languid, gold-lined eyes
Into the sea.
That blue October evening when the spring melts into
Summery wind and
Scarves are not yet abandoned to the breeze
By the bridge a piano hums.
Water on wood,
Velvet on air -
His fingers dream their song into the lap-lapping of a slur; with a
Lull of the wind and the waves
A phrase has
Grey coat swings, shadows play
Afternoon melds sound into Space.
. . .
A passing for each single foggy
And fading; still light dying,
Marigold filtered into a final musky black
Between the planks, the wood is dreaming and the
In Berlin, beside a timber deck where water ebbs and drifts in-
-terminably into the dusk
There hangs a warm thrum-thrum in the air . . .
That Brandeis-blue gold evening pedals out a late October lilt
And the sun falls, and the bridge beside the wood murmurs;