Final Touches

A Magpie Tale

He left the frame among the sheets
on the bed in the home of his son.
Splintered, decayed,
it could hold its piece no more.
The artless fragments are gently laid by.

Solemn descendents assemble
in the empty gallery,
remembering the scene:
      pines crown the arid mesa
      behind the apple tree and daisies
      that he coaxed to bloom and bear
      he found the formulae, tacitly bestowed
      elements of wisdom on children, too
      they recall their own faces
      applied in indelible oils
      and the elegant figure of the artist
      who shared his studio for so, so long

Perhaps he'll show her first,
then submit the canvas for review
by the One who gave him brush and paints,
who applies the final refinements
with tender strokes;
who will restore the frame,
infuse it with enduring element,
replace the dust with polish, gilt,
and fit it to his lifescape
forever.


For my grandfather, Ross D. Gardner, 1914-2010