Ut Pictura Poesis
Outside, in the garden, port-blue skies,
runnels and breakers from the troposphere,
huge fat flakes of snow float to raw, evergreen grass,
frozen buds of roses, blanched ochre moss--
the purple crocuses lean, half-cocksure
to come out up the bright green fence.
Pancake's gleaming feline eyes angle towards
a three-year old, who wants to eat the flakes,
and me--dreaming of Finisterre, a time
of lonely, after-love walks to the sea,
whole afternoons of quiet from the clams.
For an instant this picture is entirely
painted out in mercury, but soon gives in
to cramps, cold, and other odd allurements.