Fugue No. 2


The breeze caressed the trees. The nightingales sang loudly.



– The breeze, a southerly, and somewhat damp from the sea, caused the trees to whisper among themselves as if a stranger were in town. Moonless night in spring and the nightingales sang loudly. By the window, the curve of you, a silhouette against the stars.

– The breeze caressed the trees, wavering every leaf, just passing through, no haste. Moonless sky of stars, the dark flicker of bats on constellations defined and bold. The curve of the plough matching that of your shoulder, as if it were a decoration. And the nightingales sang loudly.



The breeze caressed you, and the trees approved, dampened by the sea, and starry sky; the curve in the window with the curve in the sky and the night within the night all wavered and flickered, and the great bear at your shoulder; and boldest of all, as I kissed you, the nightingales sang loudly.

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