Autumn afternoon --
in the cool, dark chapel a
      single candle glows.

            *

      Look! The branches of
these sturdy, ancient trees are
      blossoming -- with snow!

            *

      Yesteryear's verses --
racing horses, strong and fierce!
      Now our words stumble.

            *

      Winter moonlight, cold
and pure as hundred-proof gin,
      goes down like water.

            *

      Poet sleeps and dreams
of the perfect line. Wakes up
      and forgets the words.

            *

      Cold Sunday morning --
sun shines on the golden cross
      of the small Greek church.