HINDSIGHT MEMORY

The first smell
of late August's fallen leaves
near the birches
even on the weariness
of a Vermont day
we're playing Mozart
making music
with a quartet of friends
on a bench with a first violin
once pawned
now repaired miraculously
by Mr. Elder of Boston
who has golden hands,
now sharing a murdered muffin
cheese croissants
a banana and some salsa salad
drinking in a green Chinese tea
with tiny cups from India
which my aunt Sarah prepared
in a repast for me
comes down to visit us
from Fort Sewall in Marblehead
where we rehearsed for recitals
carrying this glorious breakfast tray
with Uncle Linwood
where we would practice
Bach's double violin concerto
on a summer's day waiting
in the shadows of the boat club
ready to take us on the yacht
which races for miles
for trout which we caught
as a student artist gives me
an oil drawing of our cat
now on the wall of my kitchen
next to Hockney's painting
as we jam together
and chit chat.