Tuesday, July 31, 2012

547

In a city where eyes
passing fog see bay
at sunset by bridge red
spill of sounds on 19th,

some climb steps mosaic
till they fade above
the green thick mane
Aztec roof of De Young.

Through windows see the soul
of room that hangs on hills
beneath the Heights where
art spans stair to sky.

Hear flowers on divan
link arms and lend their tune.
Birds blue trill 2:00,
capricious white cloak

breaks to crystal blue
kaleidoscopic, still
life wakes anew, pools
of light skip across

hardwood floors:
bouquets fill
open eyes and pores.
Found, uncharted

in swaddling caress
of clouds, settee
at beauty’s behest,
peace now is restored.

Craft and crook intent with
artist-in-residence
to bend the time of day
belay technology;

grace reclines gives
the call to shape, to see
how beauty unadorned
brings simplicity.

Days don a quiet
shared with books, obit page
ensure a flagging light
pressing forth stays.

On CNN, Hoarders,
Poirot, and Charlie Rose,
stars beguile room
and roommate into night.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Lovely use of the senses. That, plus the thought of grace and beauty make this a nice day with a fun poem.


---Dutchie Vanderstein