I wish always to think of eternal things
that were, are, and always will be
that pass too often as ephemeral, transient life.
They are vernal buds of emerging green being
burgeoning in sublime and sensuous thought,
renewing my hope, invigorating my spirit.
We think these wither in autumn and die.
No. They sleep. They dream of coming again.

I would spool out exalted incandescent images –
visions of celestial beings, beneficent gods
angelic creatures inspiring, as for Fra Angelico,
The Annunciation, evoking the touch of divine love.

Alas, my thoughts are not these.
They do not match the glory of creation,
the transcendent sparkling brilliance of being.
My thoughts are fleecy clouds that drift away
leaving no trace but the blue firmament of day
the ethereal dark and imageless canopy of night.
I think of nothing at all most of the time.
Over and over I spin out old grievances
or create new ones that never were.
I hum tunes, forget the words of their verses,
make lists of things to do, of things not done;
consider why birds and squirrels do what they do.

I’ll leave it to angels and blessed saints
to everlastingly ponder the divine mysteries
and wonder what, in that awe-filled moment,
were the thoughts of Mary, sitting calmly there,
letting it be, and what were the musings
of that winged creature, rapt and bowing,
breathless and benign before her? ____________________________________________________________________________

Portland, Oregon – August 29, 2020

This is Fra Angelico’s Annunciation. It hangs at the top of the stairwell at the Monastery of San Marco in Florence, Italy. This does no justice to seeing the painting in life.  It is a stunning work whose colors and depths are only scarcely depicted in this two-dimensional format. (credit:  https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/great-works/great-works-annunciation-1438-45-fra-angelico-2027376.html).