Ghosts In Still Life

In the days of 

the perfectly fitted waistcoat

silk top hat

and casually dangled kid glove

when spring arrived 

by invitation only

endangered orchids 

and blooms from Sri Lanka 

were collected 

like stamps and butterflies

and put on display 

in Yongsheng vases

on sun weary table tops

and doily covered sinks.

For the pocket empty 

artist however

to be in the presence of the perfect floret

a pilgrimage had to be made

hauling easels like crosses to

the far flung fields of impossible bloom

where

armed with the gardening tools 

of hog bristle brush

palette knife 

and seeds of paint 

flowers were conceived 

and birthed into the miracle of life

by the ones who saw them clearly

long before they met

And raised them 

to become

Klimt’s sunflowers

Cassett’s lilacs in the dark aubergine vase

Redon’s Grand Bouquet de fleurs des Champ

and Van Gough’s irises

of Saint-Remy-de-Provence

which today,

all these years later,

hang on private walls

like stamps and butterflies:

a collection of ghosts in still life

who dream of the return of spring,

when everything 

will once again

come alive.