There was a first time

There will be a final page, the faded note and empty seats. One day the concert hall will be an office block and after that a hospital. Our hands at the serenade took home the note that fades. — It’s spring again. The blossoms I wrote about last year came too early this year, even before

A New Room

Yonder far o’er vale and glen whereto grooms return and bread is leaven. This is another country. Today, outside, is a new room in which five builders, tiered upon scaffolding, cannot hear All Blues. This is no time for saxophone wails. Stand at the window and look out on the fresh planks. The backdrop: bared