In the transatlantic fury when I feared I might not survive to see Florence, clutching an elfin Love Sonnets of Shakespeare, I implored: Lord, let me live long enough to dare a love poem— In time, of course, the skies stopped glowering. And in the Tuscan summer’s imperial segue into autumn, poetry burgeoned— It’s not only the active grace, the glory between us: these praise songs spring from a holy bargain, from my deepest desire to live.
From the poem “The Magician-Made Tree” from Beautiful Signor by Cyrus Cassells. Copyright 1997 by Cyrus Cassells. Used by permission of Copper Canyon Press. All rights reserved.