i have a picture in my head
i have no brush
i have no paint
vibrant water-colors spill
red vase black wall two figures
revealed by shadows
a rugged cheek and jaw
an eager shoulder rounding forward…
and, centered in the frame, a hand
falls gently over a trousered knee
long pale fingers testifying
to single-minded peace
fingers made to move
on steel strings so often move
in tense and angular beauty...
these fingers simply listen
and, listening,
that quiet hand--
so eloquent in luminous attention--
sounds a note lovely
as any it will ever play
i have no paint
i have no brush
i have the picture here, on the canvas of my heart
Yiwu Time