I’ve been wanting to tell you of the light
how I can’t quite describe that feeling
of being heather-flat in color where rain is
I am slowly heartbeat again, no matter how you feel it

flow with no meaning and that’s a good thing
this window’s our square to the outside
autumn’s trees on furry gray skies, bluer edges

I freeze under constellations, I burn ice cold in black night
like star factories, a sudden and unplanned eclipse
my ears, both cheeks grow numb, the radiator pops

but then they are warmed by the light
southerly facing photons here in Arles only now
not many years later as before that shouldn’t happen
but light has a way of bending back

You are lovely as the Sun
and so I paint you wonderfully golden, alive and ablaze

Chagall 2015