Woman Pouring Water
(after a drawing by Ghirlandaio)
We see that it was dashed off in a trice,
without a trace of reticence or nerve.
The contrapposto thigh, the shoulder’s curve,
are perfect. Nothing wasted. All precise.
And yet it has the power to entice,
with just a hint of maidenly reserve;
vitality and vigour, volatile verve,
it offers us a glimpse of paradise!
There’s movement in the stillness. Chimes unheard,
the breeze, unseen, that’s ruffling the flounces,
are ghosts in the machine: thus Vergil’s Word,
the gentle kiss of gesso, makes, announces
the life that’s in those folds and clefts and flourishes.
The Word’s made flesh - and what it strokes, it nourishes.
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