Auden wrote of
in a bar on 52nd street.
A premonition of the catastrophe
Where are we?
The trout lurk in the shadows of the
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.