Imagine a man
standing in the frame of a doorway
looking out from his well-lit kitchen
into the dark yard beyond
where summer is still emerging from the mud
Imagine the bare branches of a large tree
stretched across the night sky
stars visible above the streetlamps
beyond the scattered light from the open door
Imagine one possible star
light shooting out in streams
like a divided searchlight
sparks flying out into the night
from that distant campfire
Imagine that particular comet
like a Victoria Day sparkler
writing its signature on the indifferent sky
for that one man
standing at the edge of his home
dreaming himself into the dark
Imagine yourself
in that silence
Imagine you are imagining an artist
Paterson Ewen in particular
balanced on two sawhorses
routing out the trail of a comet
across the expanse of two sheets of plywood
Imagine you are imagining him
imagining himself in the centre of that wonder
making it real by his activity
brushstrokes etched in the indifferent wood
going against the grain
simply by revealing it
Imagine his playful work assumes the exact shape of your longing
the artist constructing just enough skin
between himself and the world
Imagine the man gazing back into his kitchen
seeing it from the dark yard
he willingly entered
only moments before
Hi Nicholas,
Thank you for crafting this lovely poem.
I find it inspiring, peaceful and soulful.
A modest device, indeed–
that something so humble and so real
that can only result in further richness
and the delight of an artisan sentiment.
Sonia