At sunset in Bellagio, we sit at the table
by the window, looking out
at mountains studded by shimmering lights.
We eat our four-course Italian meal
smiling at one another, drink red wine,
me, svelte in my turquoise and black dress
with the yellow sash, you handsome
with your dark hair and beard.
Nightfall, we stand on the balcony
holding hands. Under the amber moon,
echo of dogs faint in the distance.
Before dawn we are awakened by
roosters crowing.
We drive through the Alps
high above the earth
surrounded by clouds.
At the Jungfrau, the timelessness of glaciers:
frozen snow, brilliant sun,
our fates a silvery-white light.
Judith Lee Herbert has returned to poetry after a successful career in another field. She graduated Cum Laude in English Literature from Columbia University. She has a daughter who is a sophomore in college, and she lives in New York City, with her husband, who writes plays. She had her daughter while in her 40s.