On Schubert’s Birthday
Even the dog is asleep
on the last day of January,
Franz Schubert’s birthday.
The classical station
will surely play his string quartets
and songs, and if I have to drive,
the electrons of my mind can
escape into the orbit of Franz Schubert.
The effect of sun on snow
is bright yellow light, but then
the white stuff comes down
with the grace of butterflies
on my windshield, and Schubert’s
Octet in F major on satellite radio. — DL 1/31/23
Go to Source
Author: The Best American Poetry
