Windowpanes

An ancient river, centuries-old shops and restaurants steeped in a 2000-year history and culture set the scene. The ambiance seemed divinely contrived to facilitate the purposes of our meeting and the very fodder from which the greatest poets are sustained. Not newcomers to the area, Kay P. and I were assigned to the Army Security Agency Field Station in Augsburg, Germany in 1974. We were colleagues in the intelligence community with no romantic overtures to our relationship, save an appreciation of poetry and profound philosophical discussions. Kay wanted to spend the evening with a poet, so we planned the evening to be appropriate for the purpose. At the time and place, we quickly found ourselves hopelessly immersed in the philosophical foundations of my writings throughout the evening. It was the first time since Vietnam that I'd felt worthy as a person. I still recall sipping the red wine and feeling the warmth of the large hearth inside the Balkan eatery. I still see the swans gliding by on the Lech flowing by our café. When windowpanes begin to weep with autumn's chilly dew, I'm taken back through seasons passed to one delight held true, A rendezvous that time allowed, a gentle evening spent Amid a time of long discord when days were dreary bent. I feel the stretch upon my lips, the smile returns once more. Again, I smell the Balkan fare prepared on Lech's old shore, The mood is cast in high regard, the wine is tart and dry, As Augsburg ripples in the wake when swans go gliding by. The ancient windows frame our view and day begins to wane As rivulets meander down and streak the dampened panes. The ambiance of ages passed beseeched us not to leave And held us in its warm embrace throughout the ebbing eve. My heart was scarred, without regard and hardened by the war But her esteem unveiled its worth, while nothing had before. She saw the child that once was me, I'd long since cast aside, And bade he climb astride his mount, engage his life and ride. Now, she is but a memory, whose kindness soothed my heart, For we embarked upon our lives on paths ordained to part. Her subtle way escaped my eye till time had made it clear That her esteem had set me free, that night I hold so dear. The poetry that filled my soul remains these many years, Impassioned in my warmest thoughts when autumn first appears, When windowpanes begin to weep, a-glisten with the dew, And I return to seasons passed, to one delight held true.