Monday Morning Musings:
“Painted portraits have a life of their own that comes deep in the soul of the painter.”
–Vincent van Gogh, 1885

Angels dance across the sky
kissing the grass with morning dew–
there, a door opens,
there, a door closes
ephemeral as a ghost.
Do you hear the belly laugh
emerging from the silence?
It is wild and warm,
life.
***
Impressions of a week,
moments stored, like snapshots
a truth we seek, we speak
of how my mom is weak
our lives tied-up in knots,
and the world is often bleak,
but we take a long walk
by fountains and statues,
we talk

Swann Memorial Fountain, Logan Square, Philadelphia

“Social Justice” Philadelphia Museum of Art, Association for Public Art
of family, admire brushstrokes and dots
in bathers, poplars, and fields–
impressions formed from all these spots.
I want to be in this scene
I say, and wonder what it’d be like—
I dream. . .
but we walk past the sycamore trees,
an urban oasis, cool in the summer heat
from the welcome breeze

Rodin Museum, Philadelphia
in the garden, a rabbit darts
and bees flit, while birds sing
perhaps all patrons of the arts?
The Impressionists would enjoy
the gardens here, I think.
As we walk, I see a little boy
Garden, Rodin Museum, Philadelphia
Garden, Rodin Museum, Philadelphia
Garden, Rodin Museum, Philadelphia
his shirt, says “Just Do It,”
and he looks eager to—
my impressions flit . . .
It’s a beautiful July day.
We drink wine, eat cheese,
wanting a moment to stay
here, in a bit of peace,
sitting, dreaming, a sidewalk café
(though the texts don’t cease)

Tria, Washington West, Philadelphia
we drink wine and beer,
eat luscious cheese,
and find some cheer that we’re here.
Then a day with our daughter
(more wine and cheer)
she tells me how her father taught her
and her husband how to fix things.
and we talk of friends and dreams,
and how funny it is, the way life brings
us to these moments, and all the feelings—
love and tears, dogs, house, spouse—
the roller-coaster ride that sends us reeling

and hallucinating. Yet we stop,
read a book, sit here
in a pleasant, tranquil spot. . .
Impressions, fleeting
they come together
completing
somehow, my life.
Impressions–look, see
forget the moments of strife—
there, the lucent moon sails high
her ship glowing
across the sapphire sky.

. . .and there are cats.
