(for Linda)
I find you as I look past the clog of wires
to the hummingbird in the plum tree,
past the thrum of motor
to children’s voices from the church.
Where people have abundance
there seems such deprivation
yet also the sweetness of home.
The beauty in your eyes
and the way we look through glass,
your images delicate and passing,
stronger than death.
Is it not so true- those who have passed to pure light are everywhere there is beauty and little things and ways they looked with the light behind them are still with us as we live to join them once again. The images live on in the greatness of small things. Thanks for the reminder.
That’s a complicated image that you have accomplished–through the wires to the nest and back to the window glass. I question whether the plural “images” makes sense? I couldn’t quite work that out, but I certainly enjoyed the tone of quiet certitude that came through. You’re making something complex look easy, which takes some real mastery!
I was thinking of my wife’s sculptural images but it is more coherent in the singular, plays back to her. I’ve made the change. Thank you!