Don’t let’s forget that the little emotions are the great captains of our lives, and that we obey them without knowing it. – Van Gogh, to his brother Theo
First flakes of winter seen through glass
of a train that takes me to school.
Wren, confused, who sings at night
in the glade, and I wake glad
to be uncertain where I am.
In another room my father speaks
in low tones not to wake me-
but I am cool, the fever past,
and the voice a caress.
Under the boughs of the copper beech
shade so deep that I only see
the bright lawn I have left.
My child chanting himself to sleep.
I do not turn the page of my book.
Each day ending like this:
my hand in hers as we accept
our time for dreams,
and the Landscape with Bridge
keeps its place all night.
Poplars are bordered blue,
cows graze at ease near a river,
and each second that shimmers
with leaves and invisible stars
is a small poem.
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