Moonlit

It is not exactly driftwood, although this branch has traveled far and wide.

Fallen to the ancient understory
of the overgrown sleepy hollow
of a cartwheeled path
that is the King’s Highway
in the middle of the island of Martha’s Vineyard…
it has spent decades leaning in corners
of both my old and now new studios in Pennsylvania.

This study in lichen has been a well examined specimen and stoic companion.

The Muses had to turn the lights on full blast
to get me to see what they saw in the shadows.

If you were to walk through the red studio door today
you might be disappointed to see that the wall in that corner is…white.

They, the Muses, took some liberties there as well.

Then Polly wanted to weigh in.
She had left the mortal coil long before I was lead to find that stick
but her family home was just a few stones throw from those woods.
It was her hands that sewed those tiny purple violets into that delicate linen corner.

I put the candle in there…

But I have no idea who blew it out.