I woke from a furst-day-of-snow dream

I dreamt I met a girl in an attic,

who talked of operas, intensely.

Snow has bent the poplar over nearly to the ground,

new snowfall widens the plowing.

Outside maple leaves floated on rainwater,

yellow, matted, luminous.

I found a salamander! and held him.

When I put him down again,

he strode over a log

with such confidence, like a chessmaster,

the front leg first, then the hind

leg, he rose up like a tractor climbing

over a hump in the field

and disappeared toward winter, a caravan going deeper into mountains,

dogs pulling travois,

feathers fluttering on the lances of the arrogant men.