This golden light
Falling through the windows
Open to the wind.
The garden echoes with invisible voices.
Chairs positioned for conversations
Covered in pine needles.
Painting landscapes red and orange stained.
Music pulses, a mood starts to rock
In the chair next to me.
Hello old friend, where have you been?
All the things we can imagine
Are pressed against a mute tongue.
Paper words flying in this new evening
Like moths seeking the false comfort of the porch light.
What is this sweetness?
Sticky are the memories of time;
Tumbling decades like pebbles.
I’ll always find my way.
I know a little girl kicking leaves
Pile after pile after pile high.
And the light falls just so
It speaks of those pebbles rolling down trails,
Of solitary shadows pooling
In puddles I can get lost in.
Come, child, come sit in this dusty place
And rock with me.
Know that the sun is sinking low,
So, yes, let’s fall into the quiet
And there we will hear
The song whose lyrics know us best.
Rest, rest here in all of this emptiness,
Negative spaces that catch the balance
Of light and shadow, for this, this is how
An artist sees.