Viennese sunset sweeping violet under the auburn rug,
burning stone titans carved into angels.
The cooling breeze trickles among the clamoring streets,
stopping a moment to listen, then flowing a moment to remember.
The opera the blind woman howls,
the juggler on his cobblestone stage:
"The louder you go, the better the show!"
- these are the moments that Strauss composed,
dotted-eighth laughs and quarter-rests of awe.
These preludes wrap my hand, wrapped in her's,
wrapped by centuries lit like clouds
heavenward bursting.
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