David Crews

Across the Lake 1

Right there, she said   I can see him

disappearing, under tanager wings and his path

into the reeds how the color stays for a moment

there, then not.

Across the lake, you say.  Yes, and it is

less about trajectory, more whether he whistles

or chirrups.

So then music designates form

or will memory paint the lake blue, the birches

white and green.  The flicker of birch leaves across the lake

is impressionism and the wind swirls

brushstrokes into the afternoon.  The heat

remains heat if sweat drips inside your arm, down

your back

I want to remember the tanager

your hair fanning out in the wind, the sweat.  

There are so many things in life I forget and I want

to regret them.  Instead,

remember tanager across the lake.

The tanager across the lake is not a choice

more chance if anything.

The birch trees stand at the end of the lake

the wind comes,  goes.

I hear it too

but those birds make only sounds, we are the ones

who make music.    (She kisses

the side of his mouth) 

You read too much into it

these birds will be here tomorrow, the lake too  

we can come back then.  And will we see

the same tanager, the kingfisher dive.

Maybe, maybe not

who’s to say what we’ll see.

This poem and painting were first exhibited together in 2013 for the exhibition Double Exposure II at Sussex County College in Newton, NJ. “Across the Lake 1” was also published in in a limited edition chapboook Circadian Rhythm (Paulinskill Poetry Project, 2014)