[as yet untitled]

So now it's just the slow burn,
the lost and lilting low turn--
a flashback to Firenze, in the rain.

The day is no longer heavy on my flesh.
Only my heart is heavy, inexplicable,
a loss lifting the rest away from me.

Looking ahead I see the spring, and
I am grateful. Winter is a heavy season,
and I can't carry it anymore, alone.

Spring is a light season, and I have
always loved it, for renewal. Summer's
heavy, but I'm not looking that far ahead.

A fire that burned fierce and fast has
burned itself out; the ashes remain,
the embers threatening...

Let me pour water on them; I want no
danger. No sudden rekindling. Just
spring breezes and birdsong.

A sudden twist: I didn't see it coming.
Why do those saturnine moments come back, now?
Can't I think of Italy without grief?

Go away; I am wrapped up in gloomy down,
and I like the silence. It's between songs,
the quiet, and that's enough, for now.

---
Written: 03.22.05
MWL