I drove down the river from Kingston
By the sleeping mother-houses
(The fountains were wrapped
Like Christmas-pears in crumpled foil)
To Holy Cross; and for an hour,
I crept into the cloisters. The monks
Sang words that made the thoughts
Sound foolish in my head,
The statues were all paralyzed, with eyes
That stared with ruinous expectancy,
With furious delight towards the skies.

And on the grey and misty Hudson,
The icy rain gently shrouded
The ropes with sugar candy, spilled
On the road like table salt.
Tugboats-turned-museums yawned,
Tired of the water like I’m tired
Of the land, of the snow-stained lawn

Behind the gatehouse, of the portico
With neoclassic columns (and vases
With flowers carved in stone). A trail
Led from the river through
Outcroppings of sedimentary rock,
Studded with secret mollusks
That crawled through mud a million
Years ago and felt it close
Around their undeveloped eyes.

Slipping through the willow curtain
Easing among the leafy overhang
Green sheltering cloak that sways
With an invitation to be my guest

I pass through, broaden my peripheral vision
Turn my cheek and my eyes lock
Pulled toward fierce or friendly
Mottled door, camouflaged grey as a stone

I swivel to listen before leather soles
Respond and move me without guard
I feel fear, uncertain to obey my instinct
Ruining the scene for the ticket holder

The choice it seems is taken from me
Though temporal, the entrance hides...it is coy
The gatehouse of resistance clangs
Its repertoire stumbles but my vision

Knows its route....the pathway falls away
And unwillingness encircles me like a bear hug
I cannot turn or go back, the door makes way
To tumbling steps gaining their advantage

Driven pathway recedes and I stalk the
Shadowy shapes that spill out to paralyse
Locking me to the wall
Solid and comforting yet stalling

The dreaded moment of choice
Invites its gangsters to dine with me
The here and now overwhelming
Its clues forlorn and disadvantaged

Rounding the dark corner of courage
I strengthen my resolve, and
Claim the light I so desire
It throws open a vivid saffron

Vibrant colour penetrates, seeping into me
I wade through this maze of superb
Splendour and I am feathered to the ground.
Book in hand … I gaze toward the.....
                                                           Willow Curtain