Homage to Hokusai

An exuberant swath
of red across the lips
of the young woman
working at the counter.
The busboy, tired, bored,
exasperated, moves slowly
to the end of his shift.
The students nod and
mumble studying at
the café tables.
Graybeard and his
ladylove, lively,
energetic in her
wheelchair, using
two stout sticks
with rubber nubs on
their ends, to propel
herself around,
come into the
café.  Outside
the deep
dark rich green
of pines stand
against the terraced
gradations of 
twilight that climb
the hillside and beyond,
above, into a sky - 
worthy of Hokusai - of
infinitely shaded,
tender, blue.