LISTENING

Listening to Casals
play Bach on his cello
evening sheds its light
as songbirds cross the sky
in a throng going South
as if in a last lament
of our own heartbeat
in a murmur of love
from our own mouth
spoken in a language
with no written words
in a melody over
Venice's icy canals
and many convent's high bells
as the wind's breeze
motions the crimson leaves
to be sent off Oak trees.