
When the cubist hand
reaches around to touch
the shadows . . .
It’s a Picasso!
*

Blush of tulips fades
Blustering breeze in the long
unfolding of spring

Empty bench, cold day
hot coffee, brief walk in sun
snowstorm on its way

Where does our journey go?
Do we look back at the shadows,
cast in fear, and above all, sorrow,
and drink of the anguish in our passing-by.
Or listen to the joyful song,
exultation to vanquish sorrow,
turn to feats of love and honor
to signify gratitude at our passing-by.
*
Thanks to friend and poet Richard Spiegel for the Cubist reference.
Good ones. And I think that Pablo Picasso would have agreed.
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Beautiful poetry.
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Thank you very much!
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