poem
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Those heady blossoms, I can see them now! Once, and only one more time, I lie down trusting as one who knows the summer’s day is in my heart again. How surely can one know how and when and where and why? Is it not the case that even angels fear to tread where hope…
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A tribute to Goethe. I dreamed I found the golden goblet of that ancient king. I turned it slowly in my hand and in my head did ring a voice I recognized as his, that dear and sacred ghost. He whispered softly, “Where is she, the one I love the most?” And then I saw…