This is for you
Now that your curved wood chair
like a chair carved in Black Woods, Germany,
is gathering the silvery daylight in places,
silvery because screened first through sheets of plastic
you put over the windows to keep the heat in, in winter,
and now the whole scene is changing, I mean birds and short
orange jackets, sneaks, little pink stickers on the trees,
that open up in most places into fancy flowers, amaryllis,
for instance, to me just a fancy name for girl in antique poems,
I actually saw in a rich man’s house the other day, in vase,
its wild pink and yellow aspects, like the hands of a child Buddha,
waving at me and at him, while we chattered through scattered topics,
he was telling me how, in Buddhism, there are five families,
which are like the astrological houses, you remind me
sometimes of one house, in which the occupant is very bland,
like a clod of earth that just sits there, we call a bump on a log,
“dull” was the word, a word you use about yourself,
but then I know too you are like a kicking horse,