For A Moment We're In Tune

Charles Burchfield, Orion in December, 1959

Laying like in dreams 

with eyes open, cold

glassy and moving

to darkened tones of

 mostly muddled greys. 

Everything up,

 drawn toward the source,

open and raised our- 

gaze moves to sky. 

Laying below surface

hiding from the Hunter

who walks on water

like sea monsters 

standing taller than trees.

The bends of our necks 

rest along a dank log

it's decaying but

death is not yet here

inside the body 

of this old oak tree. 

It's insect inhabitants 

are eating, they play

Carl Vine's Symphony

Number 5 to the light- 

flickers of Apollo's truth,

as the Hunter aims small

and we feel the mass of it.

Daily Routine

Pierre Bonnard, The Bathroom, 1932 

They get up with the sun. First, she takes him outside in her pajamas. Feeds him his morning bowl of lamb and rice as she makes her bed. Forgets for a moment, but makes sure to draw a bath before work. He loves to watch her undress.  The interest in his eyes makes him feel human. While she just thinks it humorous.  Stepping over to the tub he winces. She apologetically thinks she stepped on his tail, when really she stepped on his heart.