Minna (IX)
by Maxwell Bodenheim (1892-1954)
Sedate and archaic, a twilight-frilled hazeWalks over the meadows like rolled-out centuriesQuivering in sprightly welcome.Trees pushed down by silence;Trees lolling in comely abandon;Trees pungently flamboyant,Their leaves spinning in the wind’s golden elusiveness.Trees probing the shrilly sensitive sunsetLike little, laced nightmares leaningUpon a scarlet breast;Trees sprinkling their stifled mockeryUpon the blue tomb of the air;Trees, are you silenced beingsWhitening into the winding paradiseOf old loves seeking a second death?And has this archaic, twilight-frilled hazeMoulded me to your semblance?
