The final two quatrains of W.H. Auden’s Fall of Rome have been circling in my mind during this extraordinary time. Especially as I think of my friends in New York. I had to search hard to find this photo I took from the top of the Empire State in the summer of 2005. But it feels eerily perfect.
Enjoy the hard-cut of the last quatrain. One of the most perfect and beautiful he wrote. Whatever is going on where we are, there is always a somewhere, altogether elsewhere.
Unendowed with wealth or pity,
Little birds with scarlet legs,
Sitting on their speckled eggs,
Eye each flu-infected city.
Altogether elsewhere, vast
Herds of reindeer move across
Miles and miles of golden moss,
Silently and very fast.