redyellow morning

i'm not sure why
i'm typing this except that
the worlds feels so
achingly beautiful now
(your phrase, not mine)
and i guess i had
thought, suddenly, of
our mutual friend
singing
"If You Could Read My Mind, love"
on the rooftop of the WAG on a
bluesky summer day,
redyellow
sirens in the
streets below,
you were crying and
someone's hand was
on my back,

and just now,
i thought of you,
in far away montreal,
drunk in the redyellow sun
of grassy hospital yard and i
wanted to protect you
from all of this, and to
protect myself
but i can't

life has dealt us all
its hands i'm
glassy eyed now with
sunlight and
whoever believes in
this,
though he were
dead yet shall
he live with
this knowledge
of
the aching
diamond lotus
beauty of
youth and

old age and
the grave,

time
drifting down
on us now

like
St. Theresa's
redyellow
rosepetal compassions

time
falling

like
so much
bright blue day,

like deepwinter
sparkle of
snow.