MONTALE'S BIRTHDAY
(October 12, 1896)

Over a pine covered park
in Milan on a city bench
eyeing the cloudy smoke
from the nearby factory
as a boy runs
his paper air plane
lands on Montale's knees
nursing his own darkness
in a soft October rain
over an ease of grief
in a loss he sustains
from a lover, Dora Marcus
to his life's birthday wish "Yes"
by the seaside beach
hearing a songbird's echo
in a sparrows chorus
upon a shade in this corner
of the highest tree branch
by the patched up grass blades
within reach of is writer's
still life from an artistic belief
yet cursing his own secret fate
of Dora's shadow bent over
his unearthed notebooks
by his earth-wise desk
as he steps on
fallen red orange leaves
on the thick dune riverbeds
as his lyric peaks to us
this awaited noon day
in his voiceless quatrain
close to his home of rest
in this familiar city.