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At Brundisium
The fever that confines me to this bed
has caused a delirium; instead,
it has brought clarity and cleared my head
of daily cares and trivial concerns,
highlighting pure thought while the dull dross burns
away (and nothing of it to be said).
Time, politics, and recent history
(and, maybe, even my own poetry)
have been harnassed---bridled---guided to serve
some future purpose. No event can swerve---
delay---obstruct---conflict with its advent.
The very light and air have a vibration,
and shimmer gently with anticipation:
whispers of hope that trumps our discontent.
Starward
[jlc]
