The great Django Reinhardt wrote a song called "Nuage" - clouds - today there are no clouds - a pellucid sky, slight gold inscribed on the mountains and pure azure - a raven floats, the sun broad as in the poems of Whitman's "Song Of Myself" pouring onto peaks and the Hudson River - like Django - I am a gypsy -like him, I play guitar with a hand burned in a house fire, only two fingers to chord - yet my sound is unique as the Santa Anna winds of the desert - my burned hand - a husband who tried to kill me with poison - but like Django I escaped - and sing like "A Nightengale In Berkeley Square" - that jazz tune. Nuage and today, just infinite sapphire expanse, my years to come.
Judy Katz-Levine is an internationally-published poet whose work has appeared recently in Salamander, Ibbetson Street, Ygdrasil, Muddy River Poetry Review, Gravel, Miriam's Well, Kritya (India), and Allegro Poetry (UK). She was recently featured as the Sunday Poet on the blog of Doug Holder, entitled "Boston Small Press Poetry Scene Sunday Poet" on Easter Sunday of this year. Her books include Ocarina (Tarsier/Saru), When The Arms Of Our Dreams Embrace (Saru) and a recent still-in-print chapbook, When Performers Swim, The Dice Are Cast (Ahadada).