Softening
Softening
The landscape…an easel.
The pallet drips
with deep shades of red.
The rock wall fashioned—
a bed of blue submerged in
the background.
A wanderer steps into the scene—
quietly sitting in the masterpiece
displayed…
the onlooker can SEE
—the rocks
—the towering steeples
—the jagged edges
the smooth sheets that hang
like a curtain with no rod…
they are beginning to soften.
Yes, the painting
begins to crumble.
One stone unleashes a cascade
of boulders.
The rolling thunder
gives rise to a cloud of dust.
The one holding the gaze
stands…
The image settled—for NOW.
A new picture created.
Paint brushes in hand—
the easel endless
The sojourner
walks on.
You “paint” such lovely images. You are a balm
for my spirit.
YOUR words are balm for my ‘soul.’ Thank You:)