Rainy day february..all gray and browns
the maples in the thickets are criss crossed
like so many lines, words.
Writing in my painting
Drawing, the hand to the paper
the etched line
the earnestness of
feeling brought through the hand
kinetic, like running, like springing
like stirring the delicious stew
to feed my loved ones.
On The Edge Of A Dream
The painting with the guitar
and the orange ochre space
green falling on the edge, like hair
or tears or your presence.
The bold yellow of a far off hill
or the sky
dreams of mountains
and a field where white
green and blue intermix
create an earth for your treading
or a meadow of memory
that fails to clarify
though it tries
through its spring grasses
and the long brown bed of autumn.