Wanting the Sky to Be the Limit
I'm troubled today
walking through the redwoods after rain,
finding them secretive and deep,
keeping the horizon from view
as if there isn't one at all, or anything beyond.
Instead I'm wanting
a graceful short flight of sunlit stairs
on some English or European street,
a bookshop halfway down the block,
and outside the museum a café for sitting
over an array of bright-colored postcards,
where I can linger, take the possibilities all in
slowly, with limitless contemplation.
To drink deeply, rapturously,
of what I know I love.
Trees, yes, always—but I'm so greedy
for the world out there in the painters' sunlight.
image: Lucy Willis
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