Member Poem

The Terrace St. Tropez, by Henri Matisse (France), 1904.

Here in Saint Tropez,
colours melt
in the Mediterranean sun.
Frontiers vanish
and I am left with an impression,
as vague and wondrous
as the the touch of an ancient memory,
half forgotten,
of sea and sand
and indiscriminate joy.

Here on my terrace,
the shadings shift so swiftly
with the slant of light,
it is as if time itself
has had a hand in mixing
my poor palette.
I spend my days in gifted sight
and paint the blur of hue and time,
as freely as the gulls will
skate upon the vast horizon
of endless sea and endless sky.

first appeared in Ekphrastic Review