Under the willow
Sun bright
My internal soul sparked by color and shapes
from before I had knowledge of art
A pre-linguistic knowing of
canvases, paintings from a century ago.
I believe I’ve seen one or two before
Know I’ve been through their previous collections.
They have shaped my elder eye
Post education
Post language
My internal lens molded for years
And you’d think left behind
Instead finely etched
In fine porcelain,
embroidered
In satin jewel color thread
Museums taught me how to act
Began my training to see
Canvases stretched tall
Women whose stomachs were just round
enough
Once I thought I could be a model
Once I wanted to dance
Never did I think I could
Stomach too round from the start,
Taught me how to speak softly.
Spy on strangers so unlike me.
See life in frozen moments,
Glued together telling a story.
Glimpses into my pretending world
Taught me about light and depth
Space between people
Characteristics of an eye
Did I really want to be an artist’s model?
Did I already know too much about things I should not have known?
A wine cherry velvet cloth?
The stroke of the back of a hand
The simple touch of strong lips?
The color and light of a park in Paris
How we got from here to there
From Belgium to Hudson
Renoir to Wyeth
And how that affects the framing of my photographs
Museums in my first 20 years
Were thick strong chord in
The braid of me
Lindy Whiton is a long-time teacher of writing and reading. She began her career as a poet over 25 years ago. She has several poems and short stories published in local journals and released her first book of poems and photos, Spirits of the Rookery, in 2024.