soundless the sun

​

soundless the sun

this time of day.

i walk so slow-

ly not needing

to turn

my awe into words.

not needing even

to call it mine.

 

and i think of Vincent

and believe

that having died

he’d be now more

at ease and walk

with me as slow

as this.

 

i’d like to show him

the tree i stopped

in front of, the one

whose leaves i loved

and will

not describe

except to say they turned

 

each one

 

in the wind

like tambourines turning

light green dark green light

green dark

and we’d walk

 

past the tree shadows long

across the lawn

note the mallard

couple oddly

in the grass along the path

how the sun

splatters paint so thick-

ly on the picnic

tables and

i’d ask him

what color he’d say

 

the wind-

 

ruffled pond was

and it would take him

forever to answer