Always wondering what's left besides us
and how much time, I stare at the bright
fall of morning...
I can't tell you how much
you would like today, the pomegranates
heaped in baskets, air drowsy with wood-smoke...
the burnt-siena of the cleared fields,
the pang of yellow shivering through the vines,
scholarly rows of sycamores leading you down
Paul Monette, teacher at Milton
"To GB from Tuscany," 1990
National Book Award, 1992
JS Bach, Sarabande in D major
Cello Suite, BWV 1012