Psalm for a Lost Summer - Maura Stanton

[Larry Robinson]

Psalm for a Lost Summer

By the rivers of Estes Park, there we sat down, yes, we sighed, when we
  remembered Italy.
We pressed our pens against paper, and we sat under the pine trees,
  listening to the crows.
For there in Colorado we were captive at a high altitude, required
   to write without breath; and if we could not write, our consciences
   required us to read, and improve our minds.
How shall we write our poems in this strange land?
If I forget you, Venice, let my right hand forget to wind the fettuccini
   around the fork.
If I do not remember balmy Sorrento, let me never taste lemons again;
   if I prefer not Capri above my chief joy.
Remember, O Muse, the couple who strolled about Assisi; who said,
   How lovely this is, but next year let's vacation at home.
O Citizens of Assisi, do not blame us for the earthquake that destroyed
   your basilica; how happy we were, looking at your frescos during a
   thunderstorm.
Happy we shall be again, when we dash from this rented cabin, and
   drive down from these great stone mountains forever, Amen.

	- Maura Stanton