In the days following writing about my granddaughter’s wonder, an image came back to me with some insistence – a memory from over 14 years ago. It was a moment for me not unlike the moment in the rain for her.
The Venetian Lagoon in Autumn
The island of Burano recedes and melts behind us.
The sun on its way to the horizon becomes a pink smear.
Sounds of others on the boat muffle, and the lagoon
becomes soft, saturated, milky blue luminescence –
barely a distinction between sea and sky.
Time thins and stretches.
A galleon seems to float in the distant haze.
I stand as if stunned – empty of knowing.
What is this light?
Author: MaryAb
Born in upstate New York. Moved to the UK in 1971. At home in Devon.
