Spring 2012
Table of Contents - Vol. VIII, No. 1
Poetry Fiction Translations Essays Reviews
Mitchell Geller
A melancholy cellist, world-renowned
for his superb ability to coax
four strings into mournful, sumptuous sound,
could play no more. The deft, caressing strokes
grew stiff and clumsy. Heartsick, he withdrew
to his country retreat, where nettles throve,
proud and prickly, and lured -- as nettles do --
a nightingale, whose song filled the moonlit grove.
The man bade his servant to fetch his cello.
The bird and the musician harmonized;
his hands adroit, his tone now smooth and mellow,
his heart at once peaceful and energized.
At times, when pastors and physicians fail
a patient must consult a nightingale.
© Mitchell Geller