(for Elizabeth)
She prefers
the safe walls of homes
to wide-open spaces these days,
her hands now fashioning
quiet patterns of domesticity.
Having forsaken
her plains' creative endlessness
for many new voices' demands
brings a silent smile to her face --
She finds nothing lost,
as they need her,
and the desert is used to its loneliness.
She paints still-life now
and not landscapes,
in colors she hadn't used until then;
pale blues and disciplined browns
left for playful green
and the laughter of yellow.
And to the noisy bouncing of balls
and passed plates,
her sky now waits, patient.
Jon Bohrn (2000)



previous | index | next