Elegy
Steven Levery

all night long
trees shake over the mountains
the moon casts its luminous
net of dreams
among the birds floating
in a shelter of reeds
at the edge of the lake
a lone mallard shivers
half rises from the water
wings snapping briefly in
and out of the light

you always said you wanted
to die in October
to be buried in leaves
at the edge of the lake
the faint scent of laurel
far back in your nostrils
when the birds have left
the sheltering waters
and it’s not too early
for snow