One of those days

On one of those dappled August days
     back-lit by winter,
     blended of cool light and warm air,
my brother picks his way slowly
     along the river bank,
     unhurried,
     comparing the level to last year,
     the placement of stones,
     the blend of colors on this bank of flowers,
     the number and size of fish.
I doze while I wait for his return.

Next morning, strewn over the wooden table,
     six or seven sketches:
     the wood stove, the bricks, the gas lamp,
     the worn places in the ceiling paint.
My heart leaps.
I weep.
My brother, my blood,
walker, painter,
kin.

Annelinde Metzner
Catskill Farm
August 24, 1997

My brother Dick Metzner