Braying wild horses and
Yelping bonneted Indians
Imagined loping across endless ranges
In the dreaming-mind of a red-headed lass.
You came to the New Land
When the Century was young.
Mocked the North Atlantic
Scrambled up the quay of a great rock island––
Laughing and swooning there
Heart-sick for home.
One more pilgrimage
To the grandly flowing Rhine...
Father and mother
Are now only memories.
The Jubilee Train
Sipping tea with Bill Cody.
How handsome he was.
How clear were his eyes?
Governess, seamstress,
Weber & Fields, Baby Dewey,
Hans.
You made them love you.
One daughter
One son
In a happy home.
Later,
Two grandchildren
Playing
On the rocky hills of Central Park,
Prancing through the galleries of the great museums,
Dancing like brazen Indians in the tall van Cortlandt grass.
They grew to the rhythms of fairy tales.
Already it is autumn.
The street brimming with city life––
The subway clanking along its distant tracks––
The landscape is deepening grey.
Quietly gazing beyond the dappled hills,
You can feel your parents smiling,
Hear the dark breathing of ancestral pines
And whisper silent prayers––
A child forever dreaming
Of the Black Forest.