by Lewis Turco
When last I visited Alfred and his wife
We spent the evening talking about his art.
Sculpture was his passion, the largest part
Of his endeavor, his creative life.
Rhina is a writer. She and I
Became the best of friends. Her poetry
Shows readers how the heart and mind can fly
Through the Muses' ever-greening tree.
Now Alfred's mind and heart have taken wing
And she is left alone to write her songs —
She feeds them to the wind: it, too, can sing
Even when her heart breaks and belongs
To breezes in the needles and the limbs
Of brooding woodlands that can echo hymns.