Fall

Auden wrote of

September 1939

in a bar on 52nd street.

A premonition of the catastrophe

That followed.

 

Where are we?

The trout lurk in the shadows of the

Battenkill.

Are they afraid

or just avoiding me?

 

We fear death by a thousand cuts.

And yet this late August day in upstate New York

with its mellow afternoon light and gentle breeze

calms the spirit as friends gather.

 

The pine tree in the yard

stands majestic and vulnerable.

 

August, 2019