The things around them
turned Dutch painters
greedy for light,
which could not have come
so often, for I, too,
lived edged by the North Sea
and saw little enough of it.
But the prosperity of maps,
compasses, mirrors, satins,
pearls, velvets gave their brushes
the touch of worship,
they amazed at their luck,
or was it bragging?
Either way, a tempered reverence
put down the coinage
of their homes and their worldly
wonder of rich and novel things.
What care even to the sun-touched
folds of Vermeer’s leggings.
I learn to look with a caressing eye.
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