2004 Second Prize
“It’s hard to say how something so
Can speak to us in such a pointed way,”
He remarked, his voice and gesture so pure
That I didn’t even know what to say.
“It could be how the colors set the mood,”
I offered, though the piece had not moved me,
He chewed on his thumb; slowly he nodded,
And I looked hard for what he seemed to see.
“Or maybe it’s the way the shapes combine
To form the bigger picture that they make.”
He gave no explanation, nor to mine
Did he respond; mine had been a mistake.
Outside, I smiled when wind blew off his hat.
He frowned, not seeing I saw art in that.