TURGENEV

Scenting the birches
of two centuries
spring is like resin
the days are uneasy

the country house
has no visitors
yet enough light
to write by the doors

A letter from Henry James
to correspond with
a warmth by the fire
better be undisturbed

Remembered Flaubert
at a cafe in Paris
James called him a votary
devoted and not embarrassed

for a novelist takes care
of every phrase to control
in hazy margins he dares
to reveal the sins of a soul.