And Again

I swear, one of these days I'm going to find out where the sun lives and go there. I want the sun to shine on me more than once a month. I'm sure people who live in constantly sunny places get tired of it but... I'd like to try it. It wouldn't even have to be warm all the time, I don't mind chilly or even cold, just sunny most of the time. I want to walk to the bank and around the block (a mile) this morning, and I will, but it'd be a lot more pleasant if it were sunny. See? I'm not greedy, I don't want the sun so I can go to the beach or get a tan, I just want to cast a shadow when I walk. A mourning dove committed suicide by flying into our patio door yesterday, that's how depressingly gray it is around here. It's supposed to be in the low 40s again today--it's MAY, people, I know we joke about living in the tundra but that's supposed to be a joke, not reality. Wah!

May 2--Edgar Degas, Woman with a Towel.

Not a Ballerina

She rises from her bath
aglow in the sunny room
red hair glinting
She rubs her skin pink
with a worn gray-white towel
lifts her breasts like
weighing fruit
This view over roof tops
brings her to my eyes
she is mine to possess
with only glances
never hands or mouth
or heart
~~~~~

I was certain that old Degas had never painted anyone other than a ballerina or six and here's proof. He also painted a naked lady! Way to go, Ed. I'm off to the bank.
--Barbara