At first light,
It was a void of wasted hours and no time.

Some incidental music of Caspian terns
Came over the Wolfgangsee in waves of October:
Obbligatos for meaningless lives.

As the burial of the dead approached,
There was a sleet of cyclamen,
And falling flowers of snow over St. Sebastian’s –
Everyone was long asleep.
It was wasted hours and no time.





In remains of this high village,
We came down under aeries of eagles,
Past old men waiting on benches by weathered chess boards –
It was a final sepia glow and images in vellum.

At the end of the old world,
Culture became a cul de sac of religion and trivia –
Everything was changing
And nothing was changed.





Blowing graupels of winter’s pointillism
Finished a pentimento of faces over the Altstadt,
Where choirs along the Mozartplatz sang lacrimosas against the cold.
It was Christmas and no one noticed how everything was returning.

At first light,
Morning became quiet with an emptiness that comes of vindication.
Everyone was long asleep,
As snow continued over St. Sebastian’s
In a void of wasted hours and no time,
But It was Christmas, and no one noticed.