Beautiful and Cooler Evening

Sunset 3 July 2018 Chatham NY//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js

I did two small sketchbook paintings (one on the “wrong” side ie the back of the previous painting duh) and one larger one:

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Day Twenty-seven, NaPoWriMo

Jumped? No.
Not at all.
Falling? Not exactly.
Allowed myself to fall?
Gave myself willingly
to the spring surge,
the tidal pull?
More than likely.
Look the wrong way
and it plows down
and sweeps you away
unexpected.
Not necessarily
surprised but still…
Turn upstream and see
that last bit of ice
that dark wave of
night-long rain coming
Be ready to lift
your joyous feet.

Cohoes Falls, today.

Day Twenty-six, NaPoWriMo

Those sitting with hills
brushing their hair with wind
having a cloud ceiling.
These are the folk, trusted
and thought to be brave
facing the dangers they find
and ignoring the phantoms.
The birds bring them news
and the seasons, in turn,
bring them joy and wisdom
bearing new changes and gifts
Those sitting with hills
have gentle hands, knowing
life to be tender, a baby
or kitten or fish to hold
and then when done
to set it free, smiling.

Day Twenty, NaPoWriMo

This morning before work I headed out, hoping to do a little painting before work. And I did. But there was this glaring bright thing up in the sky that hurt my eyes! Sun? What’s that? I don’t remember…

A long grey sad
glowy at the edges
it comes over
the last hill of winter
in February a day
warm enough to melt the walks
is welcomed gladly
in April it had better be warm
it had better not bring snow
Surly? perhaps. Winter is
a string of many days and
furnace-driving nights
As much as you can revel
in the icy challenge of it
eventually it has to go.
The birds have returned,
the daffodils are waiting
and well, we’re all waiting
for that clear day
that turn of air
the softening of the tree line
bursting with maple red
and willow gold
and spring.

Day Seventeen, NaPoWriMo

The radio spits out
news that can’t be held
listening as witness,
eyes opening and turning
to the weirdness of snow
on the seventeenth
of April, snow, hail, sleet
doesn’t this seem
more likely than
all that world stuff?
Mid-April, not mid-March
The days are more
February than May
more grey than sun
and all that again today
This weather three sixty
made fields fine brocade,
green and gold and white,
shining drops on each twig
each an upside down world
each the moment’s truth
and then gone.

Looking up and down and around

Painting, Snowy April Day

This is at the OOM Conservation area. No going any further than the parking lot because it was nasty. I stayed in the car comfy with my tea and paints and watching the weather whizz by.