Sun Halo on the Ides of March, 2008

Was is it an allegory of divine providence?
Or error of reification? At best, an appeal to probability.
It would take Plutarch and Shakespeare
Together to create so parallel a stage,
A theater with as many clouds and beams,
A shoreline for such drama and articulation,
Everything convergent on our arrival,
The return of art to life from art in life,
Doomed ice on shattered waters,
The vivid sun halo and vast light,
Sun dogs and rainbow zenith arcs,
It obscured both history and tragedy.

Clouds Over London

... neither God nor No-God
Louis MacNeice

Not clouds but burkas naked on clotheslines,
Hawksmoor gloom with Horus eye,
Warzone Luftwaffe left-over thunder,
Lions’ heads on building tops,
Quorum of the heavens… London fog
And a neighborhood in London fog,
The ghost of Hitchcock at the window
Of his house gave the shadow of a doubt.
Nothing was real, not buildings or streets.
Only a waking sleep from cab to cab
And a destination from which you depart.
Not clouds but statues wet in flesh
And veil, as in “The Winter’s Tale,”
Or the dead likeness of a changing guard.
North of the city an explosion; south, a beheading.
Astride the block a shadow slumps.
The head of God, a cloud in a basket.