Lest anyone imaginea solid wallbetween the worldsof history and fiction:This Morning:In the novelI’m listening to in my car,I hear how Minka, the title character,is marched from Auschwitz,escapes, then is re-capturedand sent to Bergen-Belsen.This Afternoon:My friend Stewartposts a D-Day tributeon his Facebook page,a photo of soldiers
This morning, forthe first timesince high schoolI’m sitting in the sunwithout my shirt,reading and writingat a table on our porch.The breeze and lightfelt so goodI wantedmore contact,and without thinkingreached backand peeledit off.Only then
On a long, long journey,even if you prepare,all your provisions run out.Even if you’re skilled at wayfaring,all you know gets used up.Though you’ve gone on many test runs,you find yourself in totally new situations.Your vast repertoire of responses,has become old, useless habit.Now what?Helpless, you go on.This is the test.Where is the newbeginning?
Consulting summer's clock,But half the hours remain.I ascertain it with a shock --I shall not look again.The second half of joyIs shorter than the first.The truth I do not dare to knowI muffle with a jest.
The frog half fearful jumps across the path,And little mouse that leaves its hole at eveNimbles with timid dread beneath the swath;My rustling steps awhile their joys deceive,Till past,--and then the cricket sings more strong,And grasshoppers in merry moods still wearThe short night weary with their fretting song.Up from behind the molehill jumps the hare,Cheat of his chosen bed, and from the bankThe yellowhammer flutters in short fearsFrom off its nest hid in the grasses rank,And drops again when no more noise it hears.Thus nature's human link and endless thrall,Proud man, still seems the enemy of all.
The Winters are so short --I'm hardly justifiedIn sending all the Birds away --And moving into Pod --Myself -- for scarcely settled --The Phoebes have begun --And then -- it's time to strike my Tent --And open House -- again --It's mostly, interruptions --My Summer -- is despoiled --Because there was a Winter -- once --And al the Cattle -- starved --And so there was a Deluge --And swept the World away --But Ararat's a Legend -- now --And no one credits Noah --