by Marilyn Donnelly
On Mondays when the museums are closed
and a handful of guards
look the other way
or read their newspapers
all of the figures
step out of golden frames
to stroll the quiet halls
or visit among old friends.
Picasso's twisted ladies
rearrange themselves
to trade secrets
with the languid odalisques of Matisse
while sturdy Rembrandt men
shake the dust
from their velvet tams
and talk shop.
Voluptuous Renoir women
take their rosy children by the hand
to the water fountains
where they gossip
while eating Cezanne's luscious red apples.
Even Van Gogh
in his tattered yellow straw hat
seems almost happy
on Mondays when the museums are closed.
"On Mondays" by Marilyn Donnelly, from Coda. © Autumn House Press, 2010
I couldn't resist sharing the museum poem that came in Garrison Keillor's blog this morning. And also a photo I took before I left Florida this spring.
This is the entry way into a darling little cafe in Mt Dora. I can hardly wait to paint it!
We are continuing our cross country trip and right now are near Amana, Iowa.
We are heading toward Omaha today to spend a few days with friends. More adventures soon. Keep tuned.
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I heard the poem on Garrison this a.m. and liked it. Just now looked it up and sent it to several friends, especially artist friends.
ReplyDeleteFriend Ivan of Trafalgar
On the S. Edge of the Glacial Plain