THE NEW ENGLAND FALL/
By ROZI THEOHARI/
The rosy Autumn returns/
The ritual rhythm of the red New England,/
The wild cherries, the oak forest, the maple and the beeches/
Shake their red and golden beards/
On mushy piles of leaves at the roots of the trees/
Combing, trimming and embellishing themselves/
At the crystal-mirror lakes of Maine’s hills./
The cool air is wafting a kiss
To the Fall night—waiting
For a short date with the dwindling day…
The squirrels
Welcome each other for the Fall’s dining
Using two hand-paws shelling and chewing
Tasting
The wild chestnut with hedgehog fruit.
The Bronze Butterfly Fall Migration
Follows the journey Canada-Mexico,
The cosmic dust of her wings—secular echo
Of the sounds of the rivers—the Indians’ canoes,
The ravens’ caws
The axes’ wood rumble…
The ocean’s waves arching in wide swaths
Incandescent the green specter of
The sun’s rays pecking—
Through ruined clouds tearing each other’s hair…
On the seashore – foot prints of humans and dogs
Alternating—visible or not
By the shifting sand of the dunes at Cape Cod.
Under the platinum night sky, while Boston city sleeps,
At Diamond Beach
A white gull wing feather – falls and flutters in the sand
Chanting with stars.
ALEX REQUIRES THIS
By ROZI THEOHARI
a daughter writes from Freiburg
she becomes a German citizen
wants the family tree
she’s too far from home for any of this to mater
or is she?
she clings to this history
as if to her mother’s cord
so neither falls into oblivion’s pit
so I write
name upon name
line upon line
year after year
fathers, nieces, children
there were thousands
too late
so I slept
and dreamt
darkness, fog-bank, silence
a worm-eaten door creaks
a wrinkled hand extends
“who are you?”
“the great-great granddaughter
who bears your name.”
“welcome, it is my birthday.”
crablike fingers catch my hand
as I enter the castle and mount stony stairs
noise echoes, just like family
young folks dance, old folks pray
dead and alive relatives mingle
they eat, embrace, sing songs
everywhere, food abounds
and in the twinkling of an eye, an earthquake
overthrows everything
between dust and stones
I recognize my dead mother
who extends her hands
“my daughter…my daughter!”
I open my eyes
To find my own daughter smiling at me
From her picture on the wall.