A Dream

Silence

Of the wintry countryside

I guess…

Or the silence of sleep ?

The silence of death ?

Nothing can be heard

Not even a Cassandra owl

Not even the ill omen of the hidden coyotes…

I am sick

Lying on a lonely bed

In your house

I know it’s your house…

Music sheets

Scattered all over the lonely bed.

I’m perusing a score

A melody of yours.

But, how tired, how worn

I am feeling !

The score is so, so heavy

The score is falling off my wan hands.

Now and then

Very often actually

Your wife is coming into the room

I know it’s your wife…

Stone faced

Mute

She is arranging the bed

The pillows

Is handing me a bowl of soup…

I don’t trust the soup.

When she is leaving the bedroom

I will empty the bowl

Into that depressed potted plant.

Through the window

I can see the hazy snow on the tall pines

I can see the frozen clouds

In the pale shivery sky.

Suddenly, I can hear a horse

Moaning somewhere.

A child is entering the room

I know it’s your child…

He is gathering the music sheets on the bed

He is fumbling into his pocket

And is holding out a golden knife…