Green Satellite Shimmer Report

I said I’d blend colours, render a wave
of curving bright green, speckles of red
(touches of inevitable black in the gouache)
inscribed within
“May this year be green,
may it roll through you
a meadow, a surf
raised by the breeze of your days.”
Something like that.

But other winds pushed that wave into space.

When I showed you my list of priorities,
the wave—inadvertently—was gone.

“Weren’t you going to make me one of your undulations
for my birthday?”
you asked.

Annoyed with myself, I threw the list down.

Now the day is past. “Don’t fret,” you said.
“Your birthday’s coming up:  leave it to me,
I’ll make you the warm glow.”

The wave glistens. Distant mirage.
The paints are in the cupboard.
Still no time. I never did paint that wave.
But I can write you this: a lost satellite
wheels in my head, a shimmer, I made it
especially for you:
this green satellite shimmer report.

– first published in The Saranac Review

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– more poems

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