Cantus Ex Aethere
—While Listening to the Radio—
The dial discovered, through the rain,
a vagrant, near-forgotten strain.
A cantor from another year
came quivering through the static here.
The chamber dimmed; the night drew near.
Thy laughter seemed to reappear.
A summer road… thy careless hair…
the lucid hush we two could share.
The cadence softened, wan and slow—
a timbre I once seemed to know.
It breathed the words thou told’st to me,
again, again, most tenderly.
Then through the hiss it rang out clear:
the past still knows my listening ear.
The anthem waned. The station died.
The rain resumed its lonesome tide.
Yet somewhere in the nocturne air
thy living voice is singing there.
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