By: Bill Novak
I gaze through the suspension of twists and turns
choreographed en grille outside my balcony door,
black wrought patterns reflecting diamond raindrops,
overlooking parked cars, neighborly cottages
and star magnolias in early bloom,
as swift clouds play counterpoint to this frozen frame
and tease the bare trees with thoughts of spring,
And I idly dream of royal apartments
 overlooking the gardens of Le Notre
or the balconies of Haussmann’s boulevards
making their delicate ascent to Etoile.
Like the clouds these abstractions dissolve
And I awake as my grille reflects an altered light,
as day fades to the soft blue of early evening,
as the honking geese break the surreal silence,
as the road light takes over,
as I drift into the shadows of Morpheus.