I enter my art studio,
light a lavender candle

and breathe in, calm
then stare at the soft flame.

Images swirl, cardinals, bluebirds.
Crow emerges into view,

and I contemplate her message, consider
painting an abstract

reds rage and shriek across the canvas,
jagged midnight blues,

me, a tiny white dot against the chaos
of my violet cancer.

As for the future, I ponder
paining a giant canvas awash

with yellow sunshine radiating
in every direction. But I am not

like Crow. I cannot see the future.
Life is never only one

color. I pick up a feather Crow leaves for me,
reach for this moment where I may choose

any color, all colors. Again, I stare into the light,
breath more deeply than before

as I weigh this moment, this tiny second
alive with possibilities. I poise

my brush, gather pigments, splash and overlap
ocean blues and greens rolling in,

rolling out and off my canvas. In the distance
the amethyst horizon beckons

and I imagine Crow is waiting there,
but I stand with my feet centered

in the sugar white sand beneath my feet
at the water’s edge. Overhead,

billowy clouds dance
across a periwinkle sky.

A champagne sun dazzles the water,
dazzles me,

like laughter, and frolicking, and good health.