Plein Air

He wanted to say what he felt

while he still felt it

as he sat before the contours

of his longing. It was alive

with shadows and windy light:

long grass bowing over and over,

polite, even reverent,

and smooth, the way young lungs

fill and empty without oversight,

and sometimes a fall warbler

caught up in the instant

sailed by. How will I die — how

can I? he asked, his brush still wet.

Will it come at a moment

of indecision? What color is it?

Must I agree?

If so, he’d live forever

because he’d never agree, never!

The present, sun-charged,

rushed into his hand.