Pathway Back
oil on panel 7" x 10"
Let me seize the air
pulsing down these hills,
kissed by a moment's cold frolic,
without thought of the strangling calendar.
Let my feet step freely into the swirl
the yellow tall tangle grasses,
my head up among intemperate clouds,
at one with my precious delirium.
There are no dances so
sweet as these hours of mine,
poured out on the land,
standing at the edge of mystery,
boldly greeting my imperfection,
held out as an offering.
I am never far from these fields,
buried as they are in my deep,
their wind sounds find me
encased in my dreams, lost
in the deepest nights' shadows,
slant light running loose in my sleeping eyes.
A poem about making paintings from a collection of my writing, from several years back.
Each day as I go to paint, these lines sometimes come to mind - as they did when we were at la Madelene, as I went out in the mornings. True, the 6 am walking club never quite came together but being out at that hour allowed me some magical times, completely alone and able to capture a small bit of that time, that place, and that feeling.
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