Finding meaning in the lives of strangers
Going south, we watched spring
unroll like a proper novel:
forsythia, dogwood, rose;
bare trees, green lace, full shade.
By the time we arrived in Georgia
the complications were deep.
When we drove back, we read
from back to front. Maroon went wild,
went scarlet, burned once more
and then withdrew into pink,
tentative, still in bud.
I thought if only we could go on
and meet again, shy as strangers.
Lisel Mueller (February 8, 1924 – February 21, 2020)
Fled Nazi Germany, arriving in the US at age 15. Taught writing at the University of Chicago.
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Going south, we watched spring
unroll like a proper novel:
forsythia, dogwood, rose;
bare trees, green lace, full shade.
By the time we arrived in Georgia
the complications were deep.
When we drove back, we read
from back to front. Maroon went wild,
went scarlet, burned once more
and then withdrew into pink,
tentative, still in bud.
I thought if only we could go on
and meet again, shy as strangers.
Lisel Mueller (February 8, 1924 – February 21, 2020)
Fled Nazi Germany, arriving in the US at age 15. Taught writing at the University of Chicago.