WATERED COLORS: VINCENT BEACH, OCTOBER
(For David Levine)
Paint me a slanting cliff
that shrinks to stillness,
a line echoing
July’s impastos will not do here ---
tropical, rich as mangoes,
clear heat at zenith in that sun.
It is a time of endings,
and watered colors,
these last hours
of the last light
of a summer’s communion.
Wrapped in a dusk of moths nesting
we sit, hushed as altarboys,
watching two stragglers
trudge finally home their kites.
The year swivels towards ice
while gulls the hue of mourning
streak the sky.
Versions first published in Wisconsin Review (1980), Martha's Vineyard Magazine (2001)