Today was the kind of day when shadows spoke many languages. There were green words with graphic edges, elongated shapes, faded patterns and more. At the beginning of the pandemic I gave myself small drawing assignments so that I would pay attention to fence lines, tree branches, clouds, or horizon lines. Then, at the end of the day I would make four small, quick sketches. I have kept up the four-sketch habit, but the focus is more on the day’s activities. Today’s crispness was a great reminder of the value of simple personal assignments.
I THINK
I will write you a letter,
June day.
Dear June Fifth,
you’re all in green,
so many kinds and all one
green, tree shadows on
grass blades and grass
blade shadows. The air
fills up with motor
mower sound. The cat
walks up the drive
a dead baby rabbit
in her maw. The sun
is hot, the breeze
is cool. And suddenly
in all the green
the lilacs bloom,
massive and exquisite
in color and shape
and scent. The roses
are more full of
buds than ever. No
flowers. But soon.
June day, you have
your own perfection:
so green to say
goodbye to. Green,
stick around
a while.
— James Schuyler