Poem: January 2, 2019

Water Color

Sophia, my artist,
bends over her canvas
at the kitchen table,
her 10-year-old hands
gently, precisely applying
the dabs and strokes of watercolor
that bring into our world
the sky-blue bicycle
with its baskets of flowers
on the gray cobblestones
of an old-world place we've never been
but that we feel, we recognize
as perfect, real, universal.

The joy of flowers collected
and bicycles pedaled
and art supplies
and 10-year-old hands.

So much depends upon
the stories we tell,
the moments that break through.