“First Symphony” by Dan Grossman

Unsplash image: Andrew Meehan @andrewmeehan

First Symphony

A marmot squeals in a rock-field high
above the forest; Mahler, bathing his feet
in a waterfall’s eddy, thinks this cry
a part of the day’s dying song. Twilight

gives the waterfall a diamond’s clarity
but brushes the streamside aspens with soft
amber. Mahler recalls Leipzig; the study
window he gazed through, pondering the rift

between man and nature. For years he tried
to force harmony by the stroke of his pen.
Now he sees the true path; his genius died

to be reborn in this weird mountain light:
the aspen leaves shimmer and he hears the sun;
a melody comes clear as day yields to night.