Private Collection
       

       Around the time 
       this portrait was painted,
       grass in the park
       gave beneath the weight
       of a picnicing pair
       with rolls and coffee,
       while a mid-morning sun
       climbed flagstone stairs.

       The distance 
       of those beveled slabs
       each to each 
       seemed spaced improbable,
       as if, perhaps,
       to accomodate the stride of 
       goddess and god
       arm in arm
       walking the morning path.

       And yet we, 
       arm in arm, 
       flesh on flesh
       did not falter 
       nor leap ungainly
       the paved way,
       rather in concert moved:
       with the grass, with the stone,
       to meet the measure of the day.

       


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