AVENUES Poem by Norbert Hummelt

fontane came on a day in june along the dusty avenue of
poplars to blumberg, niederbarnim, in the feldmark. in this
park laid out with plans by lenné near the stone church with

the grave inscriptions I am walking on a day in june with my
child, who is smaller than the waving corn and is picking wild
flowers, camomile and poppies. for so long I'd been nobody's son.

yesterday I thought of that again, at the moment when we
glimpsed the fox. you picked up a stone to be on the safe side.
we ran beneath the scent of the lime-trees, found the oak tree split

by lightning, held each other by the hand and thought there
was no end. we ran from there in the dust of the avenue.
white of camomile, poppy-red, how long my father has been

dead. I'd like to know how he is, and cannot find a single word
by fontane to help me out. by the car park in the wooden hut is
the restaurant where the old folk get together for coffee and a chat.