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.