a work of art that does not concern itself with light

after the weather-based sabbatical
from running i squeeze in a quck-ish one this morning
in the momentary reprieve from
the rains, 
the brisk cold (in the 40’s) invigorates me
into making the best time
(of all runs tracked on my smarty pants phone) yet for my 1-3 mile runs
 _______
the deep green leaves
of the young-young brassicas:
broccoli, cabbage, collards, & kale
reaching up from their hay mulch nests
after these days of wet and wind and coolness
thriving
_______

the smooth ovals (with a point at one end) of cucumber seed i drop
into soil block after soil block
in the greenhouse in the pre-afternoon chunk of day
that happens to have some sun in it
_______
the magnificent
chocolate-chip-to-baked-good ratio
of the round glass pan of blondies
left to cool on the butcher block
_______
on the menu i say
as i introduce tonight’s dinner
brought to us by the color green
and those in the streets for mayday:
spinach salad with tahini and preserved lime dressing,
square biscuits (instead of my usual round biscuits),
parsley/cilantro cashew sundried sungold ‘pesto’ spread
green soup (cooked and blended kale, spinach, quinoa),
and to put on top:
tamari toasted seeds
and tamari sauteed garbanzos
_____
the bright sparks of stars
against the dark of night sky
(moon headed horizon-wards)
glimpsed from porch in the overhead spots
not blocked by the newly-leaved trees
_______

a work of art that does not concern itself with light
has no right to exist
says the woman on st. louis public radio
quoting an italian sculptor who worked with bronze (and other materials 
whose name i didn’t catch but i wondre
if you search that quote
you might find him

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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