Where We Are Going…


Where we are going,
Enigmas await
With hands extended
Bearing ripe stones,
Expressionless cabochon
Droplets of stilted rain,
Or a petty curse from
The fountains below.
Beyond this threshold
You are masked,
Surrounded by ever-advancing
Entrails of an abandoned Spring.
Without movement
You’ve become an efflorescent statue
Mocking time and
Pilfering its colors
Until the last one is drawn
Patiently and elegantly devoured,
Just in time for the advent
Of the weakened penumbra
You freed years ago one morning
Blanketless now in the cool of dusk,
Naked, with trembling feet
Smiling tentatively.

Art: “Garden Path at Giverny”
Claude Monet

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