Spring 1984 • Vol. VI No. 2 A Gathering of PoemsApril 1, 1984 |

Rhythmic Brushwork

A sky, like a canvas, accepts motion. A band Of orange monarchs in migration is drifting now Across that deepening background from the east. There is motion as the butterflies descend slowly, Like a sunset broken into brushstrokes, to cover The warm damp bank of the lake with bronze wings. Like the sudden materialization of a field of orange Poppies, they rest on the shore, their petals Pressed together upward.   There is motion in a band of sun-colored poppies Tilting and opening their wings with the breeze Like multiple lines of orange, slanting backwards On a painted shore. And when the butterflies rise again, There is a resurrection like a flock of orange flowers Lifting itself into the sky, rising with the motion Of an evening lake, each wing a bronze and auburn wave.   Imagine the brushwork of butterfly wings in migration, Each stroke across the canvas a perfect glide Of ochre and gold. Consider the artist who first sees On his canvas the motion of orange mat

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