If we dip a brush in orange pigment,
we can add life to the scene: an aging snapshot
( Ahkmatova in her open coffin;
mourners stand close to her -
the red-haired was Brodsky. )
Nearing my sixtieth year
while walking along Church
a cherry- and plum-headed finch
makes his way down the grey shingles
to sip at the roof's rain gutter.
He dips into the unseen above my head.
The day is hot - but he sees
that it also rains.