a place of inspiration

unaccompanied on this windless day
alas! dismay mixed with wonder
sunlight would sparkle so in such splendor!
she is alone, delicately perched
on red and green splattered marble
waiting
with her lacy fringed pink umbrella
remnant of another epoch, staring at alabaster
statues even more ancient, hidden briefly
by a veil of falling water
(rejuvenated chemically)
playing jovially in the fountain —
not like the raindrops from tainted skies
which fall freely to nourish the land…
waiting
for her dreamlike adventure
to capture itself in her memories
although behind the discretion of her parasol
we do not see her modern telephone
its camera clicking away fuzzy photos

(or maybe she holds a miniature model
capable of high-powered resolution for clarity
in the individual drops returning to their origins
in the contemporary concrete basin below
only to be thrown mechanically upwards
again and again…)

still alone, a living statue
she is a lovely decoration for a tourist décor
the fountains at the Louvre pyramid
in the sunday morning gray mist, having risen early
(thus she avoids the tea-time crowds)
waiting
hoping that her solitude will vanish
as part of the miracle
in this place of inspiration



a place of inspiration
[2008.5.1...b]
Written for the "Pond Poetry"  forum