Being Painterly in the Desert
Out here, the wind and the sun
has become the all around me
its rhythms, in sync with eons
before me, the maker of mountains,
sand, and dried river gulches,
granite smoothed by water and sun--
the palms and creosote brush
just an afterthought.
Others, with brush and paint,
painted what they saw, felt
and the light, the glorious light
in all this emptiness--
much more, now, that I see
at last.
2/29/2011
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