Garden at Topkapi

 

The Breeze 70 x 50 cm acryl on canvas - available -

NEAR THE WATER

We are standing near one of those dark

Northern lakes, thick-leafed poplars reaching up

from the edge of brownish green water. A murky light,   

sun somewhere out there in veils drapes shower

curtains of thick white air. Everything preternaturally

natural. For example, a sandy, wet

black lab barking at barely moving rivulets.

For another example, a demographic

dream of dad, mom, boy and girl

spreading a blanket near the water.

I could tell you about people

who haven’t let life do a thing for them,

don’t seem to know it’s there, or at least until

it’s time to cut something back. Bushes, bad skin, a belly roll.

From the clearing above, a smell of meat smoke, the clink of glasses

more or less in unison, a toast, a cliché, and then something breaks.

The silence like a wire pulled too tight from both ends, then each

guest is seized by a fit of convivial hysteria. It’s like a wave that doesn’t stop.

I know other people who would change nothing in their lives.

This is not complacency. They admire the colors of things, the textures. Enjoy

people surprised by their own wit. The strength and elegance of trees

have an anodyne effect on our morale and faltering courage.

We wake up and even pigeons delight us. Their mild, fluty complaints,

the slow leathery dry slap of wings as they move on to another perch.