The Contessa At Sixty ... Again

The Contessa At Sixty ... Again
-------------------------------

yesterday
The Contessa celebrated
her sixtieth birthday ...

again ...

it was our 4,613th day together ...
with cold, snow and overcast skies outside
it was a day to stay inside
and ruminate ...

she seems to be fond of this
sixtieth year ...
it resonates
like a long pause
on the side of a busy road ...
a time to catch her breath
and decide--
with care--
on her next step ...

inside my remaining eye
glaucoma has started to air brush images,
removing the disheveled textures of time,
leaving soft, pastel impressions
of faces, hands and legs ...

the universe has its own ways to
equalize generations,
giving us the option
to improvise with light,
like Matisse, Monet and
Giacomo Balla ...

I'm perfectly happy to inhabit
these gently applied strokes
upon the canvas ...

with her ...

even our walking sticks dissappear
within the fused hues and
floral mists ...

if she decides to linger ... here ...
for another year--
at this most gentle of decades--
I'll be able to catch up,
allowing us tap ... dance ... together ...

in step ...

our way into the humid
breeze that calls us
beneath the yellow, green and musty
folds of cespugli cangianti*
in the farthest,
lush and mysterious edges
of this scene ... (il matto)

* - color shifting, prismataic shrubs

josjr (2010 0102)