Aubade

American Poetry Review, The, Jan/Feb 2001 by Gluck, Louise

There was one summer

that returned many times over

there was one flower unfurling

taking many forms

Crimson of the monarda, pale gold of the late roses

There was one love

There was one love, there were many nights

Smell of the mockorange tree

Corridors of jasmine and lilies.

Still the wind blew There were many winters but I closed my eyes

The cold air white with dissolved wings

There was one garden when the snow melted

Azure and white; I couldn't tell

my solitude from love

There was one love; he had many voices

There was one dawn; sometimes

we watched it together

I was here

I was here

There was one summer returning over And over

there was one dawn

I grew old watching