ON THE TRAIN

On the train up to Boston
when the first fragile snow
fell from the heavens
like isles of rainbows
we glimpse our spirit days
as shade and sun's shadows
begin its narrow peeks
from a still glowing first light
upon the walls and windows
like a  pre-Christmas surprise
I'm busily eating
my brie cheese croissant
with a cup of coffee
when I was eleven
going to symphony hall
my violin case next to me
with a complimentary ticket
from my uncle and aunt
to hear Munch conducting
L'enfance du Christ by Berlioz
and across me is Father Adrien
a priest from Brazil and Argentina
who is writing a biography
on John of the Cross
we struck up a conversation
in Spanish and Portugeuse
and we became better friends
through a festival of letters
and when his book arrived
with his signature inscribed
knowing as a boy's shadow poet
from all my joy, loss and sorrow
I would venture outside my home
from a lone walk in my century
now writing in my diary's arena
of my open yet vanished geography
that secret divine appointments
would follow me
in my every day history.