to my brother, Alan
the yellow leaves were falling
I could not catch them with my hands
the yellow stars and the pastel haloes
round them, ringing like colored glass
and every shade, a sound:
I was painting them mid-flight-
rosettes, like medals pinned against
the night, my
Legion of Honor-
You know, we always knew the
time of orchards was so brief, remember?
the pink and the mauve - the
apricot light - the moment's lightening.
I have a new studio: the walls are iris
touched with snow.
I'm painting in colors we never
dreamed existed - without haste.
Dear Theo.
nothing is wasted.
mary angela douglas 23 april 2009
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