In blue-shadowed light
no men wake this tree, here haunted
with ghost-eyed decay, the ice holds all prisoners
as we wait for the dazzle, fever-fire
and green give eternity, and magic sails
a vast universe of flower-fish,
a velvet-voiced sea,
if becomes now, as yesterday becomes tomorrow
and after. . .ancient incandescent light,
time’s smoky smile, a laugh that echoes
through black holes
to fly on gulls’ wings
to float on robin song,
an embrace, a lodestar.
I’m watching the snow fall, but the Oracle gave me flower-fish and fever-fire (amongst other words), and I thought of this painting. She understands time and space, and she knows everything is connected. We’re singular and part of something larger. Meanwhile, the snow will melt, the daffodils will bloom, the daisies will giggle as bees brush their petals, and sunflowers will smile, even as leaves begin to turn red, again.