Painting

Something ancient & Chinese about your brushstrokes
Wide black lines that taper and fade
Windblown
The feel of water on my hands

I miss leggy buttercups
in meadows
Yellow and green
The taste of air as I breathe

A crow has found a crust of sandwich
Two old people with identical dogs stop to talk
Above the trees there are so many shapes of clouds
a volcano must have erupted

You had a style about you I won't forget
Two fingers together across my face


~ ~ ~


Matryoshka

They love to play
you

You
love to be

something
in a box

You, yourself
have a box

for storage
Matryoshka

waits
on the window sill


~ ~ ~




Random Page