Green feathers in memory—transatlantic shipboard, 1958, old woman’s hat
**
Snow, apple branches, sky gone gray, the neighborhood quiet
**
What’s winter for? To remember ocean going hats…
**
So many dreams vanish at sunrise—this is why I love December darkness
**
“The days are like angels in blue and gold, rising up untouchable above the circle of destruction.”
—Erich Maria Remarque
All Quiet on the Western Front
**
Guide dog Corky Corky stepped into the gondola first. I let her go. Then I stepped down ever so carefully. What a tenderness I felt just then. Man. Dog. Water. Faith. How far we’d traveled for that gentle sway.
**
We floated down the Grand Canal. Our gondolier said we were passing beneath the Rialto Bridge. I hugged my Labrador as we floated under the Ponte della Liberta.
**
I thought: “how much beauty can one man hold?”
We drifted past the Palazzo Grimani di san Luca.
**
I wondered of course what Corky was seeing. I hoped she was watching a bird that flew and flew.
In the end it’s all about motion in the sky.
There was a light surge of waves.
Planet of the Blind 