Day 128: Augsburg '83

We're second-guessing April, and conceiving
That it's not so cruel. The fertile, long heat
In Augsburg '83 persisted, leaving
Unlabeled memories of German streets
With millennial banners sagging beneath
An Indian summer, then three broad steps
To the multistory townhouse underneath
Fir-green shingles, far from the Khazar steppes,
Our old Silesian home, my father's tales
Of Goshen's prize or Babylonian cast-
Out messianic cares. I never fail
To dream about the stairs, the door, the vast
(To little me) green glen where first-time deer
Ignore me should I fly or disappear.