2022.01.25.
The dream
I dreamt of autumn through the glass in the twilight,Friends, and you among the buffoonish bunch.
And from the sky, as the blood-fed falcon might,
Onto your arm, my untamed heart would plunge.
But the time passed, and grew old, and grown scarce,
And frames with shroud glittering in amber,
The garden’s glow bathed the glass
With the scarlet tears of September.
But time passed and grew old. And crackling,
Like ice, split and faded chairs’ brocade.
Vociferous, you suddenly grew quiet, hesitating,
And the dream, like an echo of the bells, did abate.
I awoke. The dawn was stark like autumn,
And the wind carried into the distance,
Like a thatch of rain hasting after the wagon,
The clump of birches running in the heavens.