I thought I wanted love

but what I really meant


was a fiddler in the kitchen–

the faces of our friends


flushed with wine

and laughter


and the floor scuffed

where we pushed back chairs and danced–


your eyes a question mark on mine

a half-note beyond the measure.


And all I ever really longed for

was right outside my door:


the leaves hurling themselves

like fool’s gold to the ground,


a csardas* of birds

swirling up with mournful sound,


and the minutes tapping out the time

in unmitigated, unrequited pleasure.


-From InSpirit

-All rights reserved

 Alinda Wasner

csardas-(pronunced cha-dr-dosh)-a dizzying Hungarian couple’s dance danced in a circle formed by many couples