A Klee in Blue
Abe sketches
trees in charcoal
as he rides the train to London,
makes sure they're true-to-season
without the luxury of color.
He pauses
now and then,
the same as when the rain
rests intermittantly
beneath the underpasses.
Abe moves
his pencil once again,
rakes smudges into fruits,
then curves his thoughts
to what stays in the main:
a day in
March two springs before
when all was new
and leaded lines on Oxford's trees
had not turned lavender
to shades of mourning blue.
The 2River View, 4_1 (Fall 1999)