The Met descibes Spring as Cephas Giovanni Thompson’s finest work. He also has a companion piece, entitled Autumn.
Thompson’s Spring portrait is a misty romantic and sentimental piece, which got me thinking romantically, and sentimentally. It seems to me the young woman in the hat has made a flower garland, and is about to reach over and give it to someone.
The form of this poem is a bref double (per Lewis Turco). I took some liberties in terms of ekphrasis, as there’s clearly no basket in the painting. But the poems I have written to date revolve around feast and food, and so my emotional response – the woman’s pose, the garland, the hat, the garden – gave me “picnic”. I also have a photo somewhere of myself in hat and dress (floral but not too dissimilar) about to picnic in a garden.
More of my ekphrastic poetry here.
Spring
In the top cupboard, our picnic basket gathers dust.
The salt and pepper shakers stand half-filled.
So small. I can’t bring myself to empty them.
Sleeping soldiers: these spoons, forks. These knives.
I was spring, you were summer, but together
we triumphed over seasons with those spontaneous
picnics. Our strolls through misty gardens were testament
to restless freedom. How we chose to live our lives.
The years that lumbered like bears, now flit like wrens.
Quick! All this basket needs is to be dusted,
a white dress found, the shawl of berries to be washed,
and we agree on a beach/lake/forest within easy drive.
Go! Grab our hats before these sleeping soldiers rust.
Let’s renew our vows with garlands. Be spring again.
©elsp 2025
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