“This brings back memories…”
“Do you mean when we were young?”
“O yes, younger in any case, and then so was the world…”
“If I were bue…”
“like Edward Hopper’s afternoon
lift the sash to air the breeze
let my summer flush your cheek
lie supine beneath the soft and gentle season…”
Flame
We look at the sky: so soft is blue on blue on this Easter day, how beautiful your beloved face in the morning light…
A crow bomb-dives a sitting heron, ignoring her dignified look: the heron chooses flight.
Now we walk along the well troden path, patches of frost lingering in the early sunshine, you know that I am happy with the change of clock time…
As we cross the meadow we look at the horses, more crows flying by, my lens fixed on the oak tree.
You look at me and in your eyes the fire burns with the energy of this new Spring.
